


i know that you think it's just a fantasy

by indiesbian



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Bisexual Bill Denbrough, Bisexual Stanley Uris, Childhood Trauma, Civil Unions, Emotional Baggage, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everybody Lives, Fluff and Angst, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Marriage, Mentions of alcoholism, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, also richie has adhd, maggie and wentworth tozier are mostly good parents leave me alone, one use of the f slur, they adopt a dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 10:17:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21426589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiesbian/pseuds/indiesbian
Summary: Being a comedian did not pay as well as Richie hoped it would. Sure, being verified on social media was cool, because he could tweet literally anything he wanted and go viral, and being on Saturday Night Live a couple times was something out of his dreams, and he had a special on Netflix, and for a while, his shows were doing great.But they weren’t anymore and he couldn’t pinpoint a specific reason. Maybe it was because he was cancelling shows left and right for other unspecified reasons that even he was unsure of. But he always refunded the money people paid for tickets. Three days after he cancelled his 12th show, his manager quit.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough & Eddie Kaspbrak, Bill Denbrough & Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough & Stanley Uris, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak & Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris
Comments: 13
Kudos: 130





	i know that you think it's just a fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> HERE WE FINALLY ARE!!!  
this fic took me about a month to finish and originally started out as my nanowrimo project  
however i scrapped that idea and continued writing it without the pressure of getting to 50k words
> 
> so here we are now!  
fic idea came from french while we talked about civil unions/marriage in france  
not beta'd
> 
> title from stacy's mom by fountains of wayne
> 
> big thank u to my best friend @averyroswell for helping me with this fic a lot and being there besides me while i wrote it! ily babe and you're my favorite forever
> 
> please enjoy!

Being a comedian did not pay as well as Richie hoped it would. Sure, being verified on social media was cool, because he could tweet literally anything he wanted and go viral, and being on Saturday Night Live a couple times was something out of his dreams, and he had a special on Netflix, and for a while, his shows were doing great.

But they weren’t anymore and he couldn’t pinpoint a specific reason. Maybe it was because he was cancelling shows left and right for other unspecified reasons that even he was unsure of. But he always refunded the money people paid for tickets. Three days after he cancelled his 12th show, his manager quit.

He found himself back into his hometown, staying with his longtime friend, Stan. He needed to get out of New York for a bit, or he was going to lose his mind. Stan welcomed him warmly and sat in the living room with him to listen.

“God, I understand why he dropped me but at the same time, why wait so long? I don’t even know how to find a new manager, let alone get back on track.” 

“I don’t think he’d just leave you like that without any help. He must know you’re struggling and why you cancelled all those shows,” Stan tried to reason. “Does he know?”

“It didn’t come up, I guess. I don’t even know why I cancelled so many shows.” He took in a breath and his friend gave him a sympathetic look. “I was just at my peak, man. I was going to publicly come out, too, but now all of that went to waste.”

Stan nodded. “I still think you can do that.” He stopped, as if he was considering something. “You know, Rich, if you’re struggling financially, there’s something that could help you.”

“I think I’m fine in that aspect, but tax returns are definitely going to eat my ass, man.”

Stan hummed. “You should form a civil union with someone.”

“The fuck is that?”

“It’s a form of legal relationship that’s not as binding and as committing as marriage, but it can offer both members certain financial benefits, and you can file taxes as a couple. That’s what Bill and I are doing right now, but we’re more-so testing how marriage would go.” He took a sip from his coffee. “You should consider it, Rich.”

Richie snickered. “Imagine the headlines,” he dropped his voice to a low impression of a news broadcaster. “‘Comedian and burnout Richie Tozier becomes poor and is forced to marry someone solely for tax benefits. More at five. Back to the studio.” Stan didn’t laugh along, instead pressed his lips together. Richie frowned. Maybe that’s why his career was ripping apart at the seams.

“It’s not marriage, dumbass. But I mean it, I think it would be good for you.”

“But who would I even form one with? Do you know anyone with standards low enough to form a civil union with an unfunny, broke comedian?”

"Only if your standards are worse."

Richie didn't answer, instead, he sighed. “I’ll think about it. If you can find someone, let me know, I guess. Could I stay here for the night, Stan the Man? I don’t feel like driving back to the city.”

Stan nodded again. “I can’t believe you drove six hours just to see me. I’m so flattered, Richie.”

“Don’t be fucking rude. I needed emotional support.”

Stan cracked a hesitant smile, as if he was thinking about saying no to Richie’s request. “Yeah, the guest room’s always open. It’s right next to our room.”

Right. Richie nearly forgot Bill lived with Stan. “Cool, thanks,” he said. “I get full audio of you and Bill going at it like fuckin’ rabbits. How did you know I’m into voyeurism?”

“Shut up, Richie.”

“When’s he gonna be home anyways?” He asked with genuine curiosity. 

Stan shrugged. “He said he’s working late with his publisher. He’s working on getting another book out there.”

“Ooh, working late with his publisher, huh? Are they boning? With your permission? Does that make you a c-”

Stan shot daggers into Richie’s skull. “Do not finish that fucking sentence, Richard, or I’m kicking you out on the curb,” he said firmly, setting his coffee down on the table next to him.

Richie decided to ignore Stan’s warning. “Does that make you a cuck, Stanley? Are you into that?”

“That’s it, get out of my fucking house.”

Richie grinned. “You could never kick me out if you tried, Stan the Man. I’m gonna go take a shower. Hope you don’t mind me wearing your husband’s clothes,” he said with a wink.

“You’re so funny, Rich. I totally don’t understand why your career is flopping.”

That jab, despite Richie knowing it was just Stan’s dry attempt at humor, hurt a bit. As he grabbed his keys to retrieve the spare clothes he had in his car, he thought about exactly why everything was melting away from him.

His comedy was a hopeless attempt at keeping his own feelings repressed deep down. He wasn’t out publicly, of course, so he had to keep up a reputation. A reputation closely resembling a former frat boy who never really grew out of the ‘get pussy, smoke weed’ mindset and are now desperately hooking on to any remainder of youth left in his wilting body. How pathetic of him. 

He headed back inside and straight into Stan’s bathroom where he flung off his worn out black jacket, button-up shirt, and dark jeans. Then he started the water. 

The next 20 minutes consisted of Richie panicking like the loser he was. He was 43 years old, a grown ass man that should have a stable form of income, a wife, maybe some kids, and more importantly, a sense of worth. Richie had none of those. The closest thing he came to was his open-mic gigs, SNL appearances, and his very own Netflix special. People knew his name! He wasn’t just a bony teenager with coke-bottle glasses and a filthier mouth than a sailor anymore! But he felt like that was bound to change soon, with his career failing.

Apparently he felt the need to keep reminding himself that his career was failing, as if that was going to prevent him from the inevitable. 

He was worried Stan was going to freak out if he didn’t get out anytime soon, so he shut the water off and wrapped a towel around his waist, taking his dirty and clean clothes into the guest room.

“When are you leaving?” Stan called, appearing in the doorway.

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “I’m not too excited to go back to my janky apartment upstate.”

The other man grinned a little. “Richard Tozier made two live TV appearances and his own Netflix special, but still lives in a shitty apartment? What’s your net worth again?”

“Joke’s on you, I don’t even know my own net worth.” Richie paused to think to himself. He missed being around Stanley, and he hasn’t properly talked to Bill in forever, despite being good friends with him. “I’m thinking about moving back here.”

“To Derry? Why?” Stan didn’t mean for it to come out accusatory and unwelcome, but that was the tone Richie caught and decided to ignore.

“New York isn’t fun, man. Every week when I take the garbage to the dumpster, there’s at least two rats eating the vomit. Not to mention the walls are thinner than your mom’s pubes, so I can always hear my neighbors going at it.”

“I’m sure they hear way worse from your building, Rich.”

“Wanna hear something disgusting?”

“I’d rather not,” Stan practically begged.

“I woke up to two rats going at it in my bathroom. I don’t even know how they got inside the building, let alone found my  _ bathroom _ the proper place to start making their little garbage babies. It’s horrible. Not to mention the rats are the size of small dogs.”

Stan frowned. “That’s really disgusting, Rich," he said, turning his nose up. "I don't know how you stay there."

“You get used to it after a while,” Richie replied with a shrug. “But yeah, I’d rather not be forced to see rat sex on my bathroom floor, so why not move back to good ol’ Derry?”

“Well,” Stan started. “The guy I’m thinking about setting you up with does live close by. Technically in Brewer. I should give you his number.”

“What’s his name? What’s he do?”

“You’ll find out. It’s late, Rich. I’m going to bed.” Richie checked his watch. 11 p.m. 

“Old loser,” he jabbed, and Stan disappeared from his doorway, leaving Richie alone in the guest room. He usually didn’t get to sleep until one or two in the morning, so Stan going to bed at 11 felt off to him. He could see from under the door lights shutting off and the house going quiet. 

His mind began to shift to Stan’s offer. He barely even knew what a civil union was, let alone felt as if he could commit to one. He didn’t even know the guy Stan wanted him to marry, and he was supposed to make the decision right away?

Everything felt rushed to Richie, like he didn’t get a chance to breathe in between events. He turned to shut the lights off and to lay down on the guest bed. He never went to bed before midnight, but between practically losing his job, deciding to move back to Derry, and thinking about forming a civil union, Richie was done thinking and needed a break, finally able to fall asleep at a decent hour.

(***)

Richie awoke closer to 8 a.m., a time he was fairly used to waking up to after years of school and needing to be up to get ready for shows. But now with the rest of his tour cancelled, he didn’t need to get ready. He sat up from the guest bed and slowly opened the door and headed into the living room, where Stan and Bill sat together drinking coffee out of their matching mugs.

“Long time no see, Rich,” Bill said with a small smile. Richie bit the inside of his cheek. He forgot just how drop dead fucking gorgeous Bill Denbrough was. He gave a wave back.

“Morning. How was your publisher last night?”

Stan looked towards Bill. “Don’t listen to him, he made one joke about me being a cuck and you fucking your publisher and now he thinks he’s funny.”

“Oh,” Bill replies with a laugh. “She’s not even hot, not like you, Stan,” he cooed, pecking Stan on the cheek.

“Can I join?” Richie asked and smirked. 

“Shut up, Richie,” Stan hissed. “Don’t you have something to do?”

“Besides -”

“Do not say a fucking word about my mom, Richard, or I will dump hot coffee down your pants and permanently scald your dick.”

Richie bit back a response about being into that and grinned instead and went to change the subject. “So I thought about what you said last night,” he said, sitting on the couch and glancing towards the couple. “About the whole civil union shit.”

Bill gave Stan a reluctant look. “Are you getting him into one?”

“I think I want to do it,” Richie finished. “I think I need that. I’ve been wanting to settle down, I guess.”

Stan perked up and opened his phone. “Perfect, I already know the perfect guy for you.” Bill watched as he scrolled through contacts and began to text someone. 

“Who?”

“His name is Eddie. We’ve known him forever. He’s a risk analyst.” Stan ignored Richie’s cough of ‘fucking nerd’ and continued. “God, you’ll love him. I’m texting him right now.”

Bill nodded in agreement. “I need to go to a meeting now. Bye, Stan. See ya later, Richie.”

“Bye, Billy. Have fun, but not too much fun, y’know?”

Bill disregarded Richie’s comment and left after pulling a light jacket on. “So, Stan the Man, what do you usually do while your doting husband is gone?”

“He’s not my husband yet, dumbass. And I work from home. Stay out of my study,” Stan warned, like a parent scolding their child. “Eddie said he’s got a 2 hour break at noon, so he’d be willing to meet with you today.”

“Wow, lucky me,” Richie deadpanned. “I get to meet the sexiest risk analyst alive.”

“Quit being picky,” Stan scolded. “He’s a really nice guy and I know you’ll like him.” He finished his cup of coffee and set the mug gently in the sink. “I have to go take some calls and shit, so. You should go find something to do.”

Stan headed to his study room, closing the door carefully behind him. Richie gingerly went back into his room to change clothes. After changing, he felt lost, unsure of what to do, so he grabbed his car keys from the dresser and left Stan’s house, driving without a specific destination. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been in Derry. He talked to Bill and Stan a lot, but never really saw them unless it was an emergency. It had at least been 2 or so years since visiting his hometown. 

There was a lot he recognized. Derry was an old town, and a lot didn’t change from what he remembered. There were times he didn’t want to think about his hometown. A lot of bad memories came with thinking about it. It wasn’t all bad; he had Bill and Stan and Beverly, who he didn’t talk to much anymore, when he was a teenager trying to figure out what the hell he was. The bullying he endured, however, was something he’d rather keep buried deep down in his subconscious like he had kept his sexuality for 27 years. 

He must have got distracted from thinking about his childhood trauma, because he nearly collided head on with the car in front of him. He slammed on the brakes and rolled down his window.

“Watch where you’re going, fuckhead!” Richie screamed. It technically would have been his fault if they crashed, but he wasn’t regarding that.

The driver pulled over and got out. “Are you fucking kidding me? Watch where  _ I’m _ going? You nearly slammed into me!” He wasn’t very tall (at least not as tall as the 6’1” Richie), dark-haired, and ready to burst a fucking blood vessel. Richie had never seen someone so angry in his entire life, which is saying a lot. His former manager could get incredibly pissed off.

“Whoa, dude, nothing happened. Calm the hell down.”

“Calm the hell down? I was in the middle of a call before you almost  _ smashed your fucking car into mine! _ You’re lucky neither of us fucking died!” The man huffed and decided he was done screaming at Richie, so he stormed back to his car and drove away. Richie was pissed off too, but he was more so dazed. He didn’t realize he was standing in the middle of the street until a car behind him honked and crudely told him to move.

Ol’ Derry really hadn’t changed that much.

(***)

It wasn’t until close to 11 a.m. when Eddie had texted Richie.

_ _ _ Sorry for not texting you earlier! Got caught up in something _

_ _ _ I’ve also been at work all day _

_ _ _ Where do you want to meet? _

_ _ Richie, sat in his car, hesitant. A coffee shop was an easy answer, but he didn’t know if the guy even liked coffee. He took the shot anyways.

_ does starbucks work or something _

_ _ _ or like that one coffee shop down main street _

_ _ Eddie took a few minutes to answer, and Richie assumed he was busy doing risk analyst things, like the nerd he was. 

_ Sure, starbucks works _

_ _ _ See you at noon _

_ _ Richie shot him a thumbs-up emoji and Eddie left him on read. He had at least another hour to blow before meeting up with him, so he continued to drive around main street once more, this time taking in more of the town than he did the first time. 

In his hour of free time, he decided to check out the old civic center he used to hang out at. His old friends would be there with him as well, as Richie made jokes about anyone whoever was unfortunate enough to fall within his eyeshot. For a while, he just sat on the bench, near the Paul Bunyon statue. He gave a quick smile to the old statue, recalling that he used to refer to it as ‘Derry’s gayest attraction’. 

Before he knew it, the time had changed to 11:45, and he figured he should get going, in case Eddie was either disgustingly punctual or one of those freaks who thought being on time was late. He headed back to his car and drove towards Starbucks, which wasn’t too far from his current location. As he entered the building, he checked his phone to see if Eddie had texted him where he was, but there was nothing.

So Richie got in line, which was horribly long, but it didn’t surprise him much, so he endured. He ordered a grande black coffee for himself, which was the only way he could enjoy it.He had an occasional sweet tooth, but when it came to coffee, he had to have it devoid of all sugar. 

He checked his phone after ordering and Eddie had texted him to see where he was. He told him he sat down at a table close to the register. Richie was beginning to get nervous, even though he usually didn’t. He didn’t know what Eddie looked like or really who he was. So meeting him was going to be a surprise. And he hated surprises.

He knew he was in for it when an accusatory “ _ You?” _ came from in front of him. The man he nearly hit was standing, holding some frappuccino in his small hands. “You’re the one that almost killed me earlier!”

Richie’s face warmed. “ _ You’re _ Eddie?” He laughed and ran his hands through his dark curls. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He made a mental note to curse Stan out later. Fuck Stanley Uris.

Despite being obviously pissed at him, Eddie sat in the chair in front of him. “I’m still pissed at you, Richie. I had a fucking panic attack after driving away. I could have died and my last words would have been ‘Edward Kaspbrak speaking’ and it would have been your fault!”

“I can’t believe you’re still hung up on this,” Richie groaned. “Move on, Eds. You’re still here, aren’t you?”

“If I had known Stan wanted me to legally commit to a relationship with you, maybe I wouldn’t want to be here.”  _ Ouch _ , Richie thought. It was nice to know the man he was supposed to practically get married to hated his guts already.

Richie watched as Eddie fumbled with something in his jacket pocket, an inhaler, and took a few puffs from it. “Asthma too? Wow, what a dreamboat.”

“Shut up, Richie.”

“Well,” he said, beginning to stand up. “It’s been nice knowing you, but now that I know who you are, I’m gonna have to decline the offer. I’d rather form a civil union with someone that doesn’t want to kill me.”

“Oh no,” Eddie snapped. “You’re not just fucking leaving after meeting me. We’re gonna solve this like adults before I have to go back to work.”

“Then calm the fuck down!”

“I am fucking calm!”

Richie immediately noticed that people were beginning to stare. Why wouldn’t they? They were very obviously making a scene in the middle of a Starbucks filled with old people just trying to enjoy their coffee.

“Sit down and let’s talk,” Eddie said quieter. “Let’s start over. Hi, I’m Eddie Kaspbrak, risk analyst.”

Richie bit back a taunt. “Richie Tozier, former comedian.”

“Former?”

Oh boy. “It’s really hard to explain.”

The other man checked his watch. “I’ve got time, Richie. What happened with that?”

So Richie began to explain his story. Eddie confessed he had seen his episodes of SNL and watched halfway through his Netflix special before getting bored. But he nodded sympathetically when he said he cancelled 12 shows in a row and ended up with no manager. He was kind of bored with the story already. 

“That sucks, man. Is that why you got interested in a civil union?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Richie shrugged. “I told Stan that tax returns are gonna fuck me harder than his mom and he told me about you. What about you, Eds? What’s your story?”

Eddie grimaced. “Don’t make a habit of calling me Eds. Eddie is already a nickname.” He huffed but quickly went back into his story. “I just got divorced recently. Like, 2 weeks ago is when we finalized everything. Myra was great and all, but she was my mother. I fucking hated my mother.”

Richie nodded with interest. “You got married? To a woman? What, did she convert you or something?”

“Not funny, dickwad. And no, I was always gay. I think I just repressed that until I realized I wasn’t happy with Myra.” Eddie scoffed and gave Richie a short grin that might have lasted either 0.0001 seconds or 20 years. “She was not happy with me when I told her I wanted a divorce. She freaked out and told me I must have been sick and delusional and that I needed to start taking meds again. I told her to cut the bullshit and move out of my house.”

Richie glanced to Eddie’s hands, casually looking to see if he still had his ring on. Eddie must have noticed because he shook his head. “I sold our ring to the pawn shop as soon as she moved out. I didn’t want that reminder anymore.”

Eddie’s story made Richie press his lips together. “So we’re both fucked up, huh. No wonder why Stan thinks we’re so compatible.” 

Eddie sucked in a breath and checked his watch. "I, uh, have to get back to work. Sorry, Rich. I’ll text you later?”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Richie drank the last of his coffee and fumbled with the empty cup. “Go do your dorky risk analyst shit, Eduardo.”

“Don’t call me that,” he hissed as he stood up. “Bye, Richie.” Eddie gave him a quick wave and exited, taking one last glance at Richie before he left the building. Everything that had just played out felt like a dream, or some delusion. It definitely wasn’t real. The guy who previously yelled at him for nearly killing them both was definitely not on good terms with him now.

Richie sat in Starbucks for at least another five minutes before swiftly throwing his cup away and leaving the building. Once again, he was lost on what to do. He had no shows, therefore no job, Eddie was busy, Bill was busy, Stan was fucking busy, and he was by himself again. He reexplored every fucking inch of Derry and was so bored of the town that he was ready to leave it again for a much bigger city.

Richie ended up deciding to head back to Stan’s house, jumping a bit when he was approached by Stan. “Jesus,” he breathed. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“This is my house, Rich. I have free reign.” He let Richie into the living room where he sat down. “So, how was Eddie?”

“God, where do I even start?” Richie sat down on the sofa and ran his hand through his hair. “So, I met him even before Starbucks. I nearly fucking killed the guy. He got so pissed at me I swore he was ready to whip around and run me over twenty times. Then we formally met at Starbucks, where he continued to be pissed at me.”

“I don’t blame him,” Stan said with a laugh. “I’d be pretty pissed if you tried to kill me too.”

“Anyways, I tried leaving and he got even more pissed! He said that we already got this far and he wasn’t going to let me get out of it. So we talked, I told him what happened, he told me about his baggage, and now I think we’re on good terms?”

“That’s good! I knew you’d hit it off,” Stan adjusted his glasses, which Richie hadn’t noticed until then. “What do you think? Is he it?”

“I mean,” Richie shrugged, taking off his jacket. “I don’t have many options, do I?” Stan shook his head. “Then I guess he is it.”

“I’m glad you like him, Rich. He’s a really good guy.”

“Yeah, when he’s not screaming at you.”

Stan grinned. “I thought you were into that?”

Richie bit back a laugh. “Shut up, Stanley. In your own words, ‘don’t you have something to do?’”

“Not currently, no. You were gone for a long time. What, uh, did you do? While you were out?”

Richie shrugged again. “Relived my childhood trauma, I guess. I visited the old civic center. Derry really hasn’t changed all that much. It’s kind of crazy.”

“It hasn’t been that long since you visited, I thought?” Stan said. “You came in between shows, like, a couple years ago.”

“I didn’t really take the time to go through Derry, though. I just came to see you and Bill.”

Stan seemed to pause for a second, hesitating as if he was thinking about saying something, but didn’t want to be outright about it. “You never really explained why you started cancelling shows. What happened?”

Richie tensed. Even he didn’t quite know the answer. So he kept silent for a moment before turning to Stan. “I really don’t know,” he stated before glancing away from the other man again. “I think it just got to the point where I couldn’t get myself to go. So I cancelled them. I really made some of my fans angry, and I felt like shit for not explaining to them why I was wasting their money. I refunded them, of course, but it didn’t make up for the time they spent booking tickets and shit. My manager was so pissed at me for flaking.” Richie swallowed and shifted his vision to his hands, which were now tremoring. “He called me into his office and was like ‘if you’re going to keep cancelling shows, what do you need me for?’ and I took that like he was quitting on me. He said to call him if I changed my mind, but I - I guess I haven’t.”

Stan kept his eyes on Richie, which made him uncomfortable, an odd sensation from someone constantly in the public eye. He was lucky nobody recognized him in Starbucks earlier. He didn’t speak, like he was waiting for Richie to continue. But he didn’t even know where to continue. He was still fixated on his shaking hands. “It wasn’t that I was getting nervous. I had done it a million times before, y’know? It wasn’t nerves, and I wasn’t losing interest. I liked being up on stage in front of a huge crowd. But now after losing my manager, I feel like I can’t go back to that.”

“That’s why I think this would be good for you, Rich,” Stan murmured sympathetically. “I think Eddie would be a really good way to get you stable again."

"There's the thing, Stan. I don't  _ want _ Eddie to be the only reason I get better. Eddie just recently got divorced, he's probably in a bad spot too, man. I'm not going to load all of my problems onto him just because I'm legally in a relationship with him." Richie let out a long breath and slowly stood up. "I'm gonna go for a walk. I have a lot to think about." He pulled on his jacket and shoes and left Stan's house without saying another word.

With a sharp inhale, he took in the cool autumn air and slowly began to tread out of the neighborhood. He tucked his still shaking hands into his pockets and kept his eyes down towards the asphalt. He knew it was most likely too late, that Eddie already made his mind up about forming a civil union with Richie, but he wanted to backtrack. It was working for Stan, so he must have figured it would work for Richie. No paperwork had been signed, yet he was already over the whole endeavor.

He had made it out of the neighborhood and was heading towards main street when his phone began vibrating his back pocket. Richie figured it was Stan, so he wanted to ignore it, but as he slid his phone out and checked the caller ID, he was pleasantly surprised.

"Eddie?"

"Hey, Rich. I just got off work. Uh, Stan asked me to check on you? Is something going on?"

Stan was such a fucking asshole. "Yeah, I'm good. Just on a walk right now. Blowing off some steam, you know, taking in the fresh air." 

"Well, where are you?" Eddie asked, and Richie sucked in a breath.

"Why? Can't a man enjoy the fresh air and shit? Enjoy how pretty Derry is in the fall?"

He could see Eddie roll his eyes from the other line. "I'm just saying, Stan seemed kinda worried about you. Where are you?"

He hesitated before glancing to the nearest street sign. "I'm on the corner of, uh, Grainger Way? Do I have to wait here for you to come get me or something?"

"Yeah, just stay there for a second. I'll be there in a few minutes," Eddie said before hanging up, leaving Richie alone to stand like a creep in the street corner. As he gingerly kicked his shoes against the sidewalk, he felt very much like an elementary schooler waiting for his parents to pick him up after school, or a prostitute, or something. Richie felt fucking ridiculous.

Eddie was correct, as it only took him about three minutes to approach him on the side of the street and roll down the passenger window. Richie was not impressed. “A fucking Escalade? Who even are you?”

The other man shook his head. “Just get in, Rich. It’s about to rain.”

Begrudgingly, he opened the door and got into the front seat of Eddie’s ridiculously high end car, buckled in his seatbelt, and Eddie drove away from the street corner. “So,” he started. “Why were you out by yourself?”

“I told you, Eds. I was just enjoying nature. Is that so hard to believe?”

“I’ve known you for a day, but yes. I really don’t believe you.”

Richie sunk deeper into his seat and folded his arms to his chest. “I’d rather not talk about it, man. I’m bummed the fuck out and tired and really just need a drink. If you could drop me off at the bar, I’d appreciate that.”

Eddie glanced toward him, giving him an unimpressed look. “No. You’re staying with me tonight, okay?”

“Sounds like you’re kidnapping me, but okay,” he said with a shrug. “All of my shit’s with Stan, though. You don’t expect me to fit into your tiny ass clothes, do you?”

“I’m not that small,” Eddie replied angrily, but brought his tone back down. “And no, that’s why I’m dropping you off at Stan’s first to get your shit. But first, you have to tell me what happened.”

“I really don’t fucking want to, Eds.”

“I don’t care. Tell me.”

He was convincing enough, so Richie took in a breath. “I came home, feeling somewhat decent, then Stan asked me why my career is going to shit, so I told him. He said some shit about you being able to get me back on track, so I left. That’s it.”

Eddie nodded carefully. “That’s it? Okay, well, you’re not pissed, are you?”

“Not really. I just feel like he thinks I constantly need to be fixed. I get it, I’m fucked up, but sometimes it’s nice to not be treated like I am.”

“I don’t get why you think you’re fucked up. Just because you’re in a rough spot right now doesn’t mean you’re doomed to stay like that. I was like that before I left Myra. I still feel like I’m a fuck up because of that whole situtation. But I’m doing better.” Richie looked up to see they were back in front of Stan’s house. “Go get your stuff, I’ll be waiting here, okay?”

After a couple seconds of hesitation, Richie got out of the car and headed back into his friend’s house, greeting him awkwardly with a wave. “Hey, Stan the Man.”

“Thank goodness, Rich. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, uh, I’m sorry about that whole thing. I was a real jackass.” He headed upstairs towards the guest room and Stan followed. 

“Are you going back home?” He asked carefully, watching as Richie slung his duffel bag over his shoulder.

“No, but Eddie wants me to stay over with him, and I guess I had no choice.”

Stan smiled timidly. “That’s a good sign, Rich. Keep in touch.”

“Whoa, I’m not moving in with him. I’m just gonna stay for a few days, then go back home.”

“I know,” Stan said. “Tell Eddie I said hi.”

“Thanks for letting me stay, Stan. You’re truly the best.”

They headed back downstairs and Richie waved goodbye towards his friend. “I’ll keep you updated, man. I’ll let you know if I end up moving back here.” Then Richie closed the door behind him and walked back to Eddie’s Escalade and set his duffel bag in the backseat. 

“How’d it go?”

“I don’t know what you’re expecting,” Richie laughed. “He didn’t deck me in the face. He just wanted to know what was up and I told him I’m gonna stay with you and possibly move back to Derry.”

“You’re thinking about doing that? Aren’t you from New York?” Eddie questioned. “Why the hell would you come back here out of all places?”

“Dude, you don’t even wanna know the shit I’ve seen.”

“I could probably stomach it.”

Richie snickered. “Okay, so every time I’ve gone to take the trash out, there have been two big ass rats eating the vomit from inside the dumpster.”

Eddie began to look sick, so he didn’t go on with his story. “Told you, Eds.”

“Point taken. I can’t imagine how unsanitary your apartment is,” the driver gagged. “You could get so many diseases from those rats.”

“Man, you don’t wanna know what I’ve seen in my bathroom.”

Eddie shot a glare towards Richie. “Say one more word about your disgusting apartment and you’re getting kicked out of my car.”

He threw his hands up and grinned. “Okay, Eds, I won’t.” He stopped to look out the windshield. “How much longer until we’re at your place? I feel like we’ve been in your shitty little car for years.”

  
  


“We haven’t, you’re just impatient and whiny. We’re almost there, I just like to take the scenic route,” Eddie said, smiling softly. “Brewer isn’t too far away from Derry anyways. You just have the patience of a four year old.”

“That’s what they all tell me.”

They eventually got into Brewer, Eddie driving into his neighborhood. Riche quickly realized just how nicely all of his friends lived. Eddie’s neighborhood was the type of upper middle class suburbia that Richie and his friends grew up in (they all lived in close vicinity within each other). He had to admit, his neighborhood was quaint and pretty. Eddie clicked the garage opener in his car and pulled inside his garage, which was fairly large.

“Wow,” Richie murmured. “You live in exactly the type of place I thought you would.”

“Is that a compliment or an insult?” Eddie asked, taking his keys out of the ignition. Richie shrugged to his question.

“I don’t know, but I really was expecting you to pull in the whitest neighborhood ever.”

The two got out of the car together, Richie slinging his duffel bag on his shoulder again and heading inside. “I was going to clean, but I just didn’t get the opportunity to. Sorry if it’s a mess, or anything.”

When Eddie opened the door, Richie wasn’t shocked. Everything felt so pristine. There was a marble island in the kitchen, a wooden staircase going up, and all the decor from Hobby Lobby plastered on the walls. “Wow,” Richie said again. “You really are the whitest man I have ever met.”

“Look in the mirror, jackass. There’s nothing whiter than a 40 year old man making jokes about jerking off to his girlfriend’s friend’s Facebook page.”

“You love it, don’t you?” Richie cooed, nudging his shoulders against Eddie’s side. “I’m so flattered you took the time to watch my special.”

Eddie shoved him off. “Go take your shit upstairs. The guest room’s next to the bathroom down the hall.”

“Is it next to your room? I’d give anything to be next to your room and hear you get off. Who do you masturbate to, Eddie Spaghetti?”

“Shut the fuck up, Richie,” Eddie groaned. “It’s not funny.”

“I can tell you who I jerk off to. We’ve actually been going steady for a while. I’m sure you’ve heard of her, Mrs. Kaspbrak? Does she ring any bells?”

Eddie tensed a bit. “Are you talking about my  _ fucking mom? _ ”

“I’m talking about _ fucking your mom _ ,” Richie said with a wide grin. “Paint me a picture. I bet she’s hot.”

Eddie was beginning to get visibly uncomfortable, shifting his eyes away from Richie. “Can you, uh, not joke about my mom? She’s been dead for years. There were some not good memories associated with her.”

Richie bit the inside of his cheek, but instead of getting upset like an idiot, he kept his grin and nodded. “Sure, Eds. Anything for you, my dear.”

  
“Don’t call me that,” he replied, pushing Richie in the direction of the stairs. “Go put your stuff away.”

So Richie bounded up the steps, glancing down the hallway. He checked the rooms, guessing which one was the guest room - the one at the location Eddie had told him. He set his duffel bag down and sat carefully on the bed. The mattress was a queen and the bedspread barely looked touched. He wondered who else had stayed with Eddie before, or if after a particularly bad fight, he or his ex wife stayed in that room. He was considering asking, but he knew that was still a rough spot with Eddie, and he needed to be on his good side for obvious reasons.

After he got done putting his bag down on the bed, he slipped his jacket off and headed back downstairs to where Eddie was. “Now what, Eds? What does the rest of the day entail?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess we just talk at this point. Are you hungry?” Richie tried to recall the last time he ate. It was definitely yesterday morning, before he made his way to Derry to see Stan. 

“Not really, I think. I would kill for some bourbon, though.”

“All I have is champagne and white wine,” Eddie said, opening his liquor cabinet and peeking inside. “I don’t drink as much.”

“You’re so uncultured,” Richie moaned. “You don’t even have whiskey? Or beer?”

Eddie shook his head. “This wine is really good, though. I think I got it for $180 at some wine festival Myra took me to.”

Richie blinked. “I don’t understand people like you.” He thought for a moment, sighing dramatically. “Pour me a glass of your disgustingly expensive wine. Any alcohol is fine.”

As Eddie headed out of the kitchen and delivered the glass to Richie, setting his own glass on the coffee table in front of them, he stopped to ponder. “Have you ever had a problem? With drinking, I mean.”

“What makes you ask that, Eddie Spaghetti?”

He ignored the nickname with an eyeroll. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve had friends who’ve struggled with that before.”

“I’ve never been an alcoholic, but I did have a crippling heroin addiction that no one knows about.” Eddie nearly spit out his wine.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Do you know how unsanitary injecting needles into your skin is? When did this happen?”

“Never. It was a joke.”

“Not funny, Richie. You can die from that type of shit.”

“You can die from anything,” Richie shrugged. “You’re a risk analyst. You should know that out of all people.”

Eddie shook his head and muttered something under his breath that Richie couldn’t understand. “Anyways, you’ve never had a drinking problem?”

The other man sighed. “What, is that surprising to you?” He was kind of offended. People had assumed he was an alcoholic all the time. After all, he had the habit of throwing up after drinking, even if it wasn’t that much. 

“No, no. I was just curious,” Eddie dismissed. “Myra didn’t drink a lot. She didn’t drive a lot either. Her dad had that issue and got into an accident after she graduated from high school.” He took another sip from his wine, swirling it around in the glass. “I think that’s how she became so overbearing.”

“Overbearing?”

Eddie looked over to Richie, who was now staring at him with confusion. “Oh, uh, she was a bit of a hypochondriac. Worse than me,” he added. “She was always scared I was going to die in an accident or something. She made me carry around my inhaler at all times. I still do.”

“Do you actually have asthma, then?”

“I, uh, don’t know. My mom always said I did. But my mom always said I had the plague, or tetanus, or the measles or something. I had to take these pills all the time. She was so worried I was going to get sick.”

The way he talked about it made it seem like less of a deal than it was. Like it was normal. But Richie knew better. “That’s really manipulative,” he said cautiously.

“My dad died from stomach cancer. I think that’s why.” Eddie spoke slowly, staring off at the wall. “She thought I was going to die.”

Richie didn’t speak after that. Instead, he downed the last of his glass and set it down on the coffee table in front of them. He didn't quite understand why Eddie was telling him all of this very personal information, especially when they had only known each other for not even 24 hours. He supposed it was a natural thing to do when you felt comfortable with someone. Did that mean Eddie felt comfortable enough to tell him his obvious trauma? He also supposed a considerate person would ask him to talk more about it, if he wanted to.

"Do, uh, you wanna talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Eddie asked quietly.

"Your mom and stuff."

The other man hummed, tapping his fingers on the side of his wine glass. "I don't know, Rich. It's a lot to get into. Maybe sometime later."

Richie nodded. "That's alright. I was just curious." He checked his wrist, remembering he didn't own a watch, before standing up.

"Where are you going?" Eddie asked simply.

"I think I'm gonna go to bed, or something. It's been a pretty long day," Richie said, setting his wine glass in the sink. "I've got a whole lot of nothing to do tomorrow."

"Wait," Eddie started, standing up to follow Richie. "Is it because of what we were talking about? Are you upset?"

"No, I'm just tired." Eddie grabbed Richie's wrist before he could leave. "Can you just let me go upstairs?"

"I can tell when something is up, dickwad. You're not telling me something."

"Does it matter? I want to go to bed, Eddie." 

They stared at each other for a few seconds, Eddie's hand still wrapped around his wrist. Richie could feel his hands start to shake again. 

Before he could think anything of the situation at hand, Eddie swiftly pulled his wrist forward and locked lips with Richie. The first thing he noticed was that Eddie had the smoothest lips out of anyone he'd ever kissed before, and he hadn't kissed a lot of people. The second thing he noticed was that Eddie knew exactly what he was doing, and for some reason, that was horribly unnerving.

The kiss lasted for what felt like hours upon hours before eventually the hand wrapped around Richie's loosened and Eddie's face pulled away from his. Both of their eyes opened and Richie realized Eddie had the prettiest brown eyes he'd ever seen.

Without a word, Eddie turned away and went back into the kitchen, allowing Richie to finally head upstairs. He slammed the door to the guest room behind him and practically threw his body onto the bed. It took everything within him not to scream until his lungs begged for mercy.

Instead, he laid on his back, staring at the white ceiling while the kiss played over and over in his head. He couldn't pinpoint a specific reason why the fuck Eddie would kiss him like that. At this point, his entire body was trembling and he swore he was shaking the bed more than a couple on their wedding night. It was horrifying, thinking about the kiss. He wanted nothing more than to get out and go back to New York, never looking back to Derry or Brewer. The only thing stopping him was that his car still sat in Stan's driveway, and he was not itching to walk 17 minutes just for his car. Fuck that.

For now, he was stuck in Eddie's house, nothing to do without risking seeing Eddie face-to-face again. He couldn't do that. Not after what happened. He pulled out his abandoned phone from his jean pocket and unlocked it. He had to tell Stan what happened. But he was unsure of how to phrase it. "Hey Stan, the guy who I'm supposed to basically get married to kissed me after an argument? What do I do?" He asked himself out loud. He was so god damn pathetic.

He decided to call Stan, rather than text him. The other line rang and rang until Stan picked up. "Richie? What's up?"

"Something happened," Richie replied, scratching the base of his neck. 

"Uh oh, that's never good news." Stan said, then murmured something unintelligible to assumingly Bill.

"I don't know if it is," he muttered. "God, I feel so weird."

"Go on."

Richie launched into his story, that he and Eddie had been talking about Eddie's childhood, which eventually lead to a scuffle, which then led to Richie being kissed. By the time he was finished with his story, Stan was in disbelief.

"He just kissed you like that? No warning? No reason?"

"No! He just fucked kissed me and I feel so weird. He didn't even say a word afterwards. What the fuck do I do?"

"Okay, uh," Stan trailed off, saying something to Bill again that Richie couldn't make out. "God, I don't know either. I suppose I shouldn't ask him."

"No, fuck no, I don't want him to know that I told anyone. I'm sure he doesn't want anyone else to know."

"Okay. Rich, I gotta go. Bill and I are taking a pastry class. Listen, good luck with Eddie. You'll be okay, I promise."

"Wait, Stan -"

The line clicked and Richie was left alone once more. As if it couldn’t get any worse, Eddie knocked on the door. He debated locking the door, pretending to be asleep, and not talking to him unless he absolutely had to. But because this was his house, he took in a shaky, deep breath and called “Come in.”

Eddie entered awkwardly, holding a mug of tea in his hands. “Hey,” he spoke in a low voice and Richie immediately felt like a child being talked to after a fight with his parents.

“Hi. What do you want?”

_ Yikes _ . He came off a lot colder than anticipated. But he was being approached by someone who had just unexpectedly kissed him. Eddie pressed his lips together in a small line. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing, Rich.”

They both were silent after Eddie spoke, both unsure of what to say next. “I’m fine, I guess.”

“That was, uh, probably weird for you. I don’t even know why I did it. I’m sorry I did.” Richie sighed and shuffled his feet against the floor. There was nothing worse than this. 

“It’s fine,” He finally answered with a shrug. “I don’t wanna talk about it. Just let me go to bed.” 

Eddie took the sign and stood up from the bed, walking towards the door to exit. Before shutting the door, he simply told Richie “Goodnight.” and closed it behind him. Once more, Richie was completely alone. He was so ready to just fucking leave, to take the risk and walk back to Derry or steal Eddie’s Escalade to go back home. He didn’t want to do this anymore. He refused to be anywhere near Eddie anymore. He would do anything to leave.

But instead of sneaking out, he got up and shut the light off, curling up in the bed he was using and promptly falling asleep in his day clothes. 

(***)

Richie didn’t end up sleeping very well, awaken by his own pounding head close to 6:00 a.m.  _ For once _ , he internally begged.  _ Can you please just let me fucking sleep?  _ Whoever was listening to his thoughts clearly disregarded them. By 6:30, he was wide awake and there was no sign of going back to bed, so he laid there, unsure if he should go downstairs and greet Eddie. He was probably going to work soon, anyways. There was virtually no point.

But something switched in his mind and he decided that the best thing for him to do was to just take it like a man and face Eddie. So he began slowly treading down the wooden stairs, glancing to see Eddie prepping his coffee.

“Morning,” Richie greeted carefully, but caused Eddie to jump.

“Oh, fuck, Rich,” he huffed. “You scared the shit out of me. Good morning, though. Do you want some coffee?”

“Not now.” He opened his mouth to say something, anything on his mind about the kiss, but he realized Eddie most likely didn’t want to talk about it. He felt like such a fucking juvenile.

“That’s alright.” Eddie poured his coffee into a travel mug over ice, and Richie quickly realized he was an iced coffee drinker.

“Oh my god, that’s fucking disgusting,” Richie gagged. “Iced coffee?”

“Yeah, what about it, asshole? It’s the only way I can drink coffee.”

“I can’t fucking believe you. I can’t live with someone like this.”

“Oh?” Eddie challenged. “Then how do  _ you _ take your coffee?” He took a sip from his mug and raised a brow, waiting for Richie’s answer.

“Black as hell. I can’t stand any creamer or sugar or on ice. I’m not a sociopath like you, Kaspbrak.” Richie gagged again and cracked a grin. 

“God, you’re so fucking dramatic, Tozier,” he retorted. “I can’t imagine ever being so picky. I don’t mind all types of coffee. As long as it’s iced.” He checked his watch, which Richie noticed was an Apple Watch. This man just had to flex on him in every way he could, didn’t he?

“I should probably go. I’ve got a meeting at 7:15. You gonna be alright being alone all day?”

Richie kicked at the floor casually. “Yeah, I should be fine. I’m a big boy, you know?”

"Mhm, okay." He didn't like the sound of that. Eddie for sure doubted the hell out of him. "Okay, see you later, Rich." He grabbed his mug, slipped on a small jacket over his blazer, and promptly left the house.

Admittedly, there was something unnerving about how they had just pretended nothing happened the previous night. Of course, Richie did say he didn't want to acknowledge it, but did that give Eddie the right to ignore it completely?

Apparently so, but that was no issue for Richie. At least he thought so. For however long Eddie was going to be at work, he had the entire house to himself. He felt like a teenager whose parents were out for the weekend. Too much freedom.

Instead of throwing a kegger like he would have as a 16 year old, he aimlessly began to wander around the house, poking around anything he could find. The kitchen was flawlessly organized with even more Hobby Lobby decorations on the walls and shelves. Richie never had the time to decorate his apartment. The cobwebs he never swept away were decoration enough. Leaving the kitchen, he headed back to the living room to take a closer look at everything. The TV was at least a 77 inch, but it barely looked used. Richie wanted to think that he watched his SNL appearances and Netflix special on that TV. For some reason, it gave him an odd feeling. 

He then decided to go back upstairs, but not to his room. Against his better judgement, he headed into Eddie’s room and chose to go through his things. He knew it was a bad idea, but he naturally gravitated towards his drawers. All of his clothes were color coded and stacked into neat piles without overflowing the drawer. Richie couldn’t remember the last time he color coded anything. For a while, he didn’t have a reason for going through Eddie’s things, but now he had one. He wanted to see if he had any remainders of Myra.

Any possible pictures of the two, or evidence of wedding rings, or even the scrapbook from the wedding (Richie knew they would do something like that) was no longer in the house. He could understand why. From what Eddie had told him, Myra didn’t exactly seem like the woman of his dreams. But then again, no woman was the woman of Eddie’s dreams. 

He then began to shift through his closet, hoping maybe he’d find something, but came up completely dry. Eddie must have gotten rid of everything that Myra and him shared. 

Except the small chest on top of Eddie’s dresser. It had the date of their wedding engraved, and when Richie propped it open, he was met with at least 3 bottles of prescription drugs. He couldn’t tell when they were last opened, but they were about half full. He wasn’t quite sure what they were for, but he knew most likely they weren’t doing anything for him. He closed the chest and took one last glance around Eddie’s immaculate room before shutting the door behind him. 

After poking his nose into Eddie’s business, he was left without anything else to do. He supposed he could make use of the beautiful flatscreen on the wall and actually eat something for today. Before he could do any of that, however, his phone began to vibrate against the sofa armrest. Stan again.

“What’s up, Stanley?"

"I'm just about to start working but I wanted to ask how everything is going over there."

Richie glanced around the room and shrugged. "It's alright, I guess. I've got the house to myself. The old man went to work and I'm still out of a job. It's alright, though."

"Did he say anything about what happened last night?"

"No, nothing," Richie said, sort of angrily. "What gave him the right to not say anything about it?"

He could feel the eyeroll from the other line. "You'll be alright, Rich."

"How did the pastry class go?" He asked, grasping at anything to change the subject.

"Oh, it was fun. Bill nearly burned our cherry torte. I would have been incredibly upset. But otherwise, it was great." Stan stopped for a second. "I gotta go. I'll talk to you later tonight, okay? Bye, Richie."

Stan hung up without letting Richie said goodbye back. That was just how Stan was. He was also always busy during the day. Richie, however, not so much anymore. He really considered calling his manager, telling him that he was willing to get back into his job, that he wanted nothing more than to go back to normal. But he knew it was too late for any of that. So Richie decided to shove that to the deep recesses of his brain and find something else to do.

The time read 11:34 a.m. and he had never felt this bored in his entire life.With nothing to do, he was considering taking another walk. For the few days he had been in Derry, he had done a lot of walking. He supposed it was good for his decaying 40 year old virgin body, and with Derry on the verge of being a ghost town, there wasn’t much to do. There was never much to do anyways, besides the old movie theater, the closed down arcade, and the quarry.  _ The quarry _ , Richie repeated internally. He grinned to himself. He remembered being 13 years old, scrawny and blind with unbrushed hair, splashing in the deep green water with Bill and Stan. Being in Derry brought out more memories than Richie knew he had hid away.

He remembered Eddie usually got a noon break, but as that time came closer, Eddie didn’t come home. He didn’t blame him, he was probably getting another iced coffee and doing other important things that came before coming back home to see Richie. He wasn’t upset about that, he supposed. More time alone.

Before he knew it, the sun had gone down and the door opened slowly. Richie looked back to see Eddie gripping an empty coffee cup and the mug from earlier that morning, his jacket half put on, and struggling to shut the door behind him. “Hey, Rich,” he chirped, throwing the cup away, the mug into the sink, and his jacket back on the hook. “How was your day?”

“Boring,” he whined and was now flipping through Netflix to find something to watch. “I didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie replied in a baby voice, biting back a grin. “Must have been so hard for you.”

“Don’t be rude.”

“Work was great, thanks for asking. I’m getting a whole 2.1% raise. Are you proud of me?”

Richie rolled his eyes. “Sure, Eddie Spaghetti. I’m prouder than a white man after his favorite football team won the Superbowl.”

“I have no idea what those words mean.” Eddie took a seat on the couch next to Richie, glancing at the screen for a second. “Have you talked to Stan?”

“A little bit this morning,” he replied with a shrug. “He was busy with work, so he didn’t have much time to talk.”

He nodded. “I’m glad he called you.” He began to tap his foot and locked his eyes on the ottoman in front of him. “Um, I suppose we should probably talk about last night.” Those words made Richie freeze and stop his Netflix scrolling. 

“Uh -”

“I know you probably don’t want to, but I can’t stop thinking about it. It was horrible trying to sleep afterwards.” Richie bit back a response and telling him the same. 

“Well,” he said slowly. “Why did you do it?”

“I don’t know,” said Eddie, staring straight ahead at the dimmed screen. “Something compelled me to. Something about you,” he added.

Richie smirked. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“That something about you made me want to kiss you. And that, uh, I want to do it again.” 

Richie felt his bile rise in his stomach. He refused to look back at Eddie, who he could tell was watching him carefully. “Why?” He managed to get out with a scratchy voice.

Eddie didn’t answer at first. He tapped his foot a couple times and continued. “I really don’t know why.”

Another pause. “Can I kiss you again?”

The other man was beginning to get anxious, evident by his hands vibrating like a fucking chihuahua and refusing to stop. The answer drifted around his subconscious. Without further filtering, he nodded. The verbal answer came next. “Yes.”

The next four seconds, the seconds in which Eddie brought himself closer to Richie, tilted his stubbled chin towards him, and laid his lips on his own, played out more like an eternity. Not that Richie was going to complain. Eddie’s lips felt exactly like they did before - smooth, soft, and damn near intoxicating.

If he was being honest with himself, Richie had been aching for another chance to kiss him since last night. He had no clue where it was coming from, but the comfort of another man’s lips pressed firmly against his like it was the only thing that mattered to either of them was something he wouldn’t trade or give up for anything.

Another eternity passed before Eddie slowly took his lips off of Richie, both opening their eyes to stare, mouth gaped ajar, wordless. Both of them were breathing shakily, but twisted their mouths into a small grin. 

“Better than Myra, huh?”

“What?”

“I kiss better than Myra, don’t I?”

Eddie stared blankly into Richie’s eyes. “That’s all you can think about? If you’re better than my ex wife?”

“Relax, Eds, just a joke.”

He blinked. “Okay. Uh, was I better than anyone else you’ve kissed before?”

Richie laughed. They sound like such juveniles talking about people they’ve kissed. “I wouldn’t know.”

“What?” 

"Yeah, uh, I haven't really kissed anyone," he admitted, scratching his neck. "Not since, like, seventh grade." He looked over to see Eddie cracking a smile. "You better not laugh, it's not funny."

"Oh no, it's hilarious. As much as you joke about having a girlfriend and hooking up with people, I would have never guessed that you've never been kissed until now." Eddie choked back a snicker. "Are you a virgin too?"

"God, no," Richie nearly yelled. "I'm forty three fucking years old, of course I've fucked someone. That wasn't a lie, the college stories. That shit really happened to me." Eddie seemed to not believe him and Richie sighed. "It was really just the girlfriend and nongay jokes my ghostwriter lied about. The rest of it is true. I wanted to include those stories."

He nodded slowly, still grinning. "Well, good. Hey, uh, I don't know if you've been thinking about it, but I was thinking about going to the courthouse tomorrow morning and fill out the paperwork. I don't think it takes very long and I have the day off tomorrow. Do you still wanna do it?"

He was right, Richie had pretty much forgotten about the whole reason he was with Eddie in the first place. He supposed it was time to do so. "Yeah, let's do it." 

Eddie beamed and patted Richie on the shoulder. "Nice, okay. Also, you said something about moving back here? Would you, uh, wanna move in with me?"

"What are we, lesbians?" He quipped, earning an eyebrow raise from the other man. "Uh, yeah, sure, that's cool with me. What's next, we get married in Cancun? Honeymoon in Fiji?"

"Knock it off, Richard." He grimaced at the use of his full name. "When should we go and get your shit?"

"Let's see," Richie started. "My lease expires in maybe two weeks? I already paid rent for this month, so I guess in two weeks?"

“That should work,” he replied with a hum. “I’ll help you move out. So long as your apartment isn’t unsanitary.”

It was Richie’s turn to pat Eddie on the shoulder sympathetically. “I’ll buy you a mask and rubber gloves. The rats will most likely leave you alone.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Eddie said, holding back a gag. “Now that we got everything figured out, wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Sure,” Richie shrugged. “Wanna watch my special again?”

“The day I do that is the day I marry a woman again.”

“Point taken.”

Eddie took the remote from the armrest and began flipping through movies before Richie stopped him. “Can we watch Butterfly Effect 3?”

The other man shot him a disgusted glance. “Why? Can’t we watch something better?”

“Last time I checked, the guest picks the movie.”

“There’s no fucking rule that says that! It’s my house and I get to pick the movie!”

“It’s gonna be my house soon, though. I swear, next time, we’ll watch whatever shitty movie you want, deal?” Eddie grumbled before choosing Richie’s desired movie, very overtly pouting.

As the movie started, Richie inched closer to the other man. “Aw, is someone upset?”

“I am not upset,” he said sharply.

“Sounds like you are.”

“Shut the fuck up and watch your stupid movie.”

Richie laid his head on Eddie’s shoulder and grinned when he didn’t push him away. “You’ll be okay, Ed, my dear.”

“Don’t call me that,” he growled, but Richie watched a small smile form. 

The rest of the movie was pretty much silent, until closer to the ending, where Eddie threw his hands into the air.

“What the FUCK is going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“I literally don’t know what’s going on in this piece of shit movie.”

Richie frowned. “Maybe it’s because you haven’t seen the other two movies.”

“That’s your own damn fault for making us watch the third one first.”

“Oh, so  _ now _ you’re interested?”

“Only because I don’t understand!”

“It’s not that fucking hard, Eddie!”

“Stop fucking yelling at me for not understanding the goddamn movie!” Eddie stood up angrily, forcing Richie off of his shoulder. “I’m going to bed,” he said firmly.

“What? Why?”

“Because I need alone time to process that fucking movie.”

Richie stood up as well and followed him upstairs. “Eds, babe, don’t be all pissy. It’s just a movie!”

“ _ You’re _ just a movie!”

He blinked once. “What the fuck does that mean.”

“I don’t know, just let me go to bed.”

Richie followed Eddie into his room, looking around. Nothing changed, of course. He was just in this room ten hours ago. “What are you doing in here, Richie?” He asked, exhaustion in his voice.

“Making sure you’re not actually mad at me.”

“I’m not.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“I’m not pissed at you.”

“Prove it.”

Eddie groaned. “You’re insufferable and I hate you. Change clothes and come sleep with me.”

“What?” Richie asked with all the shock of someone who just won an Emmy and definitely did not deserve it.

“Go change into pajamas and get back here and sleep with me,” he repeated. “I get so lonely at night.”

He blinked once again before turning around and going to the guest room, retrieving his sleep shirt and slightly stained sweatpants from his bag, throwing them on carelessly before heading back into Eddie’s room, who was in the middle of putting a different shirt on. And holy shit, Edward Kaspbrak was kind of_ ripped _for a forty three year old. Richie caught himself staring, and apparently, so did Eddie.

“What?”

He shook himself out of staring intensely at Eddie’s biceps. “Nothing. What time is it?"

“11:30,” he answered as he took his watch off.

“That’s early.”

“Why, what time do you normally go to bed?”

Richie rocked on his heels. “Before I came here, about 2:30 or 3 a.m.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re a mess, aren’t you?” He nodded. Eddie crawled into his king size bed and patted the other side for Richie to get into. “You’re actually going to sleep tonight, dumbass. I’ll force you. I still have some sleeping meds left.”

“Fuck you,” Richie muttered, getting into bed. Eddie’s bed was soft with a pretty comforter on top. He pulled it over his body and laid down gently. “This is so much better than my twin size at home. It’s hard as a rock and too small for me but I can’t afford to get a bigger bed.”

“That’s kinda sad, Rich.”

He laughed a bit. “It’s alright. I’m really tired, Eds. Turn the light off.” 

Eddie said nothing but turned off the nightstand lamp and laid down next to Richie. “Goodnight, dickwad.”

“Wow, you’re so sweet to me.”

“Shut up, I’m sleeping.”

“But -”

“Shut up, Richie.” 

This time, Richie followed that order, lying on his side facing away from Eddie. The last time he had been in bed with a man was never, so this was all new to him, and he was incredibly uncomfortable. 

But Eddie put an arm around Richie, and any uncomfortable feeling subsided. He was able to fall asleep within 15 minutes.

(***)

The first time Richie woke up was around 2:15 a.m., evident by Eddie's glowy red alarm clock that despite his glasses being off and everything being blurry, he could see clearly. 

He wanted to get up and piss or something, but the arm Eddie wrapped around him had turned into him practically spooning Richie, which he was pissed about. He was never the fucking little spoon.

But instead of disturbing him, especially because he had no clue how light of a sleeper Eddie was, he stayed in the exact position he was in. He was comfortable, so destroying one of the first times he had actually been comfortable in bed was not a good idea.

Now that Richie was awake, he wished that he took up the offer to take those sleeping meds. When he was younger, he could easily fall back asleep after being interrupted, but his aging body prohibited him from doing so anymore. He was pretty much trapped on the bed with Eddie spooning him. Not that he was complaining, though. The presence of someone sleeping with him was the greatest feeling ever.

Richie’s thoughts must have been too loud, because Eddie began to stir and a muffled noise came from him. He stayed still, hoping he hadn’t woken him up, but then he removed his arms from Richie and sat up. “Richie?” He asked, in a slurred, groggy voice. “What are you doing up?”

“I couldn’t get back to sleep,” he replied, voice equally as groggy. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Go back to bed, dumbass.”

“Even in your sleep you’re insulting me?”

  
Eddie flipped to the other side with a small grunt, much to Richie’s dismay. He copied his actions and scooted closer to him. “Are you mad?”

“I’m fucking tired, Richie.”

“Yeah, but are you mad?”

Eddie sat up and turned his face towards him, which Richie could barely make out in the dark. “I am now. I swear, if you keep me up for the rest of the night, I’m going to strangle you with one of my ties.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m not into that.”

“That’s it,” he said, getting out of bed slowly and walking over to his dresser. He popped open the chest Richie went through earlier, opened one of the prescription bottles, and retrieved two pills. “Take one of these.”

“Are you date-raping or poisoning me?”

“Not funny, Rich. They’re melatonin. You’re gonna go to bed.”

With a grumble under his breath, he took one of the pills from Eddie’s palm and dry-swallowed it, Eddie doing the same. After taking the pill, he crawled back into bed. “They kick in within 10-15 minutes. Please, go the fuck to sleep this time.”

Richie frowned into the darkness and pulled the comforter back over his body. “I honestly don’t know why I can’t fucking sleep anymore.”

  
“I don’t know either. Shut up, please.”

“Ever since I left Derry, I don’t think I’ve slept 8 hours straight. I always either wake up in the middle of the night or end up not sleeping at all.”

Eddie turned to face Richie and despite it being dark as all hell and blurry, he could see his tired face staring angrily at him. “Stop fucking talking,  _ please _ . I can’t fucking sleep and I want to get up to the courthouse early tomorrow. God, you’re worse than a little fucking kid.” He let out an exhausted huff and pulled Richie closer to his body, which felt horrible and comforting at the same time. He supposed he needed that.

Thankfully, he was able to get back to sleep this time. Eddie holding him close.

(***)

Richie wasn’t the first to wake up the second time. Eddie wasn’t in bed anymore, and the door was slightly ajar, so that meant he had gotten up. Reaching for his glasses, he shoved them onto his face and looked to the blinking clock. Six o’clock sharp, it read. He moaned to himself but decided to get up and leave the room, looking for Eddie. 

The bathroom door next to the room was shut and Richie could hear water running, so Eddie’s whereabouts were obvious. After about twenty minutes, Eddie came back into the bedroom, where Richie decided to go back to as well.

“Oh, good morning,” he said, towel wrapped around his waist. Richie blinked and tore his eyes away from him as quickly as he possibly could. “You should probably shower. You smell like a dumpster fire.”

“Good morning to you too, Eddie, my love.”

“Shut up. Go get into the shower while the water’s still warm.” Richie shrugged and did as he was told, stepping into the still steamy bathroom. Just as he suspected, the whole room was immaculate, like Eddie had deep cleaned the entire room before stepping out of it. Turning the water back on, he waited for it to get back up to the warmth he assumed it was still at, before throwing his clothes off and stepping underneath the shower head.

Richie decided that compared to the condition his apartment was in, Eddie lived in a mansion. His shower worked about half of the time, and as much as he kicked up an issue with his landlord, Scott never listened. He was certain that was illegal, but that didn’t seem to bother Scott one bit. Not to mention the rat sex he had witnessed before, his old, horrible bed, and the rumored mold in the whole building.

As he washed his dark curls, he decided he should let his landlord know he was moving out and no longer had to deal with the horribly unsanitary apartment building. He may not have given a shit about Scott, but a heads up would be the nice thing to do. He’d text him after they got done at the courthouse. 

Unlike Eddie, his shower took about ten minutes and he headed back towards the guest room where his duffel bag was. He didn’t pack very many clothes, simply because he wasn’t sure how long he’d be staying. So Richie threw on the clothes he wore when he arrived to Derry and sprayed some of his cologne to mask the musky smell coming from him.

He walked back into Eddie’s room to find him gently drying his hair with a towel. “What are you doing?”

“Jerking off. What does it look like I’m doing?” He finished running the towel through his hair, which was now dry. “When will you be ready to go down to the courthouse?”

“I’m ready now,” Richie said, tucking his hands into his black jacket’s pockets. 

“With your hair that wet? Absolutely not. Come here, I’m going to dry your hair.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he warned, putting his hands up. 

“Stay still, Richie, I’m not trying to kill you.” He picked the towel up from the bed where he placed it and stepped closer to Richie.

“My hair is just fine, Eds, you don’t need to dry it!”

“Come here now,” Eddie said with more authority. Something about the way he demanded him made Richie stop fighting and step forwards to him. 

Eddie ran the towel over his head, rubbing it against his hair. He carefully dried his hair in a couple minutes, finally taking the cloth away from his head and throwing it into the laundry basket closest to them. “There. I’d ask if you want to help me cook a quick breakfast, but I don’t know if I should trust you near a stove.”

“Hey, I’ve only burned myself, like, five times while cooking before.”

“Exactly. Just come downstairs with me.” Eddie grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him out of the room and down the stairs. Richie hadn’t really paid attention to what he was wearing but now that he was tagging behind him, he could clearly see how well his black pants fit him and how well a dark red suited him. He looked away immediately after realizing he was staring.

“What do you want me to make?” He asked, opening the fridge to figure something out.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

“Okay.” Eddie took the eggs out of the fridge, retrieved a pan, and turned on the heat. Richie watched intently as he cooked. 

“Where did you learn to do that?” He asked, following as he cracked the eggs into the pan. 

“Cook? I don’t know. I watched a lot of Top Chef when I was in college. I didn’t really want to be one of those poor college kids who ate nothing but ramen for all four years.”

“Unfortunately, I was one of those kids,” Richie replied. “Not everyone can afford Whole Foods shit.”

Eddie shrugged and continued to work his magic on the stove. He made two omelets before plating both of them and giving one to Richie. “If you’re gonna live here, you better get used to Whole Foods. I need to go grocery shopping later, so you’re going with me."

“I haven’t stepped foot into a grocery store since, like, 2011.”

“How?”

“Postmates.”

Eddie blinked and tossed a fork to Richie, using his own to cut into his omelet. “So, when do we need to move you in here?”

“When my lease expires. I already told you. We’ve got a couple of weeks.” Like clockwork, Richie’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out to see who it was. “Speak of the devil. That’s my landlord.” He accepted the call and put the phone up to his ear. “What’s up, Scotty?”

Eddie tried to listen in what was going on, but could only hear a muffled voice on the other line, followed by Richie’s responses.

“Wait, wait, wait. I thought my lease doesn’t expire until the nineteenth. What do you mean it expired two weeks ago?” Richie paused, his eyes going wide. “Oh shit.” 

“What’s going on?” Eddie whispered, but the other man ignored him.

“Okay, well, I have some stuff to do today. Like, really important stuff. I can make it tomorrow? Not everything is about you, Scott. Shut the fuck up. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Richie waited for an answer before groaning and hitting his forehead. “God, I’m moving the fuck out. That lease means nothing to me. Fuck you, you old ass prick. I’ll be there tomorrow to get my shit.” He angrily hung up and slammed his phone back into his pocket. “I hate that man more than anything."

“He was that bad of a landlord?”

“Worse. I hope he has a heart attack and dies alone like the divorced loser he is."

“Don't wish death on people, Rich. That's horrible."

“I don’t care! He treated all of his tenants like shit and never did anything for us.” He gave a loud huff and finally took a bite of the omelet Eddie made him. “Holy shit,” he moaned through the bite. “This is so good.”

“You’re disgusting, but thanks,” Eddie beamed. “Does this mean I have to call in tomorrow? To help you move out?”

“Oh, no, not necessarily. “ Richie shook his head and swallowed. “I can probably get everything out myself. There’s not much important stuff I want to take.”

“No, I’ll help. I’ll call my boss when we’re done at the courthouse.”

He unintentionally grinned at Eddie and continued to eat. “This is really good, Eds. No offense, but you’re a rockin’ fuckin’ cook.”

“How exactly would that be offensive?”

“It’s not, I said no offense.”

Eddie simply rolled his eyes and placed the empty plate in the sink. “We should probably get going now. It won’t take very long at the courthouse, but I really don’t feel like waiting forever.” He walked towards the door and slipped on his own navy blue jacket and retrieved his keys from the hook. “Come on, Richie.”

Richie followed, pulling his jacket closer around his torso and shut the door behind him, They both got into Eddie’s Escalade, buckled in, and Eddie pulled out of the garage. “So.. We’re making this official now?”

“What, are you having second thoughts?”

Richie shook his head. “No, God, no. I don’t ever have second thoughts. It’s just kinda weird that two days ago, you were screaming your tiny little lungs off at me for nearly massacring you with my car, and now we’re here. Now we’re literally forming a civil union.” He laughed to himself a bit. “It’s been a while since I felt stable. Maybe Stan was right.”

“Stan’s always been right about everything. But what’s he right about this time?”

“He said doing this - this whole civil union thing - would get me stable and I’d be able to find another job and get back on my feet again. That day you picked me up? I kind of got upset at him for assuming you’d fix all of my problems.” 

“Well?”

“Well what?” Richie asked, turning to Eddie.

“Did I fix all of your problems?”

He laughed again. “No. I’m still a burnout comedian, aren’t I? I’ve still got a while to go.”

Eddie drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, thinking for a quick second as he switched lanes. “Can I ask why everything went downhill? You never really told me, and frankly, I’m pissed.”

Richie tapped his foot on the mat below him, glancing out the window. He took in a breath before launching into his story. He tried to recollect what he told Stan and repeat that verbatim. Eddie listened intently, glancing back at Richie every few seconds. 

He finished the story with an awkward laugh. “I was really thinking about staying in New York. Coming to Derry was a last minute decision, I guess.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Regret what?”

“Cancelling your shows. Causing your manager to quit on you.”

_ Ouch _ , Richie thought. As much as it was true, it still didn’t feel great to hear out loud that it had been his fault. “I mean, yeah. I think any normal person would feel regrets about that. I miss being in front of an audience and making people laugh. I’ve felt so lost in these past few days alone.”

Eddie nodded carefully. “You didn’t seem very happy when you were on SNL or during the filming of your special.”

“What do you mean by that, Eds?”

“I don’t know, but your mannerisms on camera felt off. Like you were putting up a persona and acting even when you made it seem like you were being real.”

Richie started to wish they could just go into the courthouse already. He was sick of explaining himself. “Probably because I haven’t told a single ounce of truth to my fans. I haven’t even come out publicly.”

He nodded once again. “We should probably go in and get the paperwork signed, huh?” Without another word about the previous conversation, they each got out of the car and into the building. They were some of the only people there, so they were hoping to get out pretty quickly.

“Do you know how to do this?”

“I think,” Eddie answered with a quiet laugh.

They were given the paperwork, sitting down together to fill it out. The entire building was horribly quiet, only the occasional words from those working their or from the few people getting their licenses or registering to vote. Richie tried to keep himself down, but he couldn’t resist whispering jokes about the people inside. Eddie held back laughs and instead elbowed Richie and told him to continue filling out the paperwork.

They finished within fifteen minutes, handing the paperwork back from where they got it. The rest of the courthouse endeavor took about forty-five minutes, then they were out.

"Well," Richie said as soon as they were out of the courthouse. "Looks like it's official. You’re my husband now. When’s the honeymoon?”

“We’re not married and you’re not my husband,” Eddie replied with an eyeroll. “But yeah, we’re official and it’s only 9:30 in the morning. Good for us.”

They hopped back into the car, Eddie starting it up and pulling out of the parking lot. “So, I was kinda thinking about your whole apartment situation. How long does it take to get back into the city?”

“Six hours.”

“Okay, so if we leave by six thirty, we get there around noon, pack up all of your important shit, leave around hopefully one or one thirty, and we’re back in Brewer by seven. Does that work?”

Richie thought for a second. “Yeah, that should work? How’d you figure all of that out in, like, three seconds?”

“Some people didn’t fail high school math, Rich.”

“Hey, I didn’t fail. That’s so fucking rude,” Richie pouted in the front seat. “You need to be nicer to your loving, doting husband.”

“You’re not my husband, get it fucking right.”

“Okay, Stanley Uris.”

Eddie ignored his comment and looked to Richie. “We need to go grocery shopping before we go home. That okay with you?”

“You’re gonna make me go inside a Whole Foods, aren’t you?” Eddie simply nodded. “For fucks sake, I’ve never stepped foot into a Whole Foods and I really don’t want to for the rest of my life.”

“It’s not that bad! You’re being so fucking dramatic. Why are you acting like I’m making you sever one of your limbs?”

“You practically are, Edward. I don’t wanna lose my Whole Foods virginity.”

Eddie turned to glance to Richie with an unimpressed look. “You’re such a baby. I asked you one favor, to go fucking grocery shopping with me, and you’re acting like a fucking child. Unbelievable, Tozier. I hate you.”

Richie laid a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, which he shrugged off. “You love me, Eds, or else we wouldn’t have spent an hour finalizing a legal relationship with me. You’re real cute, Eddie, pretending that you hate me,” he cooed.

“You know it’s just as easy to revoke our partnership as it is to form one, right? I’ll turn this goddamn car around and dump you flat on your ass.”

Richie fake pouted. “You wouldn’t do that to your husband, would you?”

“Call yourself my husband one more time and I’ll push you into the lake,” he said with no real anger in his voice.

He could only smile to himself. Eddie pulled into the parking lot of Whole Foods, finding a decently close parking spot to the entrance of the store. 

“I don’t think I’m ready for this, Eds,” Richie moaned nervously as they walked to the door. “I can already smell the essential oils from here.”

“Quit being so damn dramatic, Richie, please.” Eddie gave him a swift elbow to the arm. “You’re gonna embarrass me.” He grabbed a cart and pushed it into the store.

Richie had never been in a Whole Foods before, and it definitely showed. He gave the interior a confused look. “Where do you even start?”

“I have a list,” Eddie said casually, pulling up the notes app on his phone. “After this morning, I’m low on eggs, so we’ll start there. Have you ever been grocery shopping before, Richie?” 

“I have, don’t patronize me. I’ve just never come here before,” he emphasizes. “There’s one not too far from where I live, but I’d rather not get infected with hepatitis B from the anti-vaxx freaks there.”

As he grabbed a carton of eggs from the shelf, Eddie turned to Richie. “You know not everyone who shops organically is anti-vaxx, right? You’re painfully ignorant.”

“That’s my brand, baby. Zero brain cells and the only thing that’s controlling me is what’s in my pants.”

“That’s disgusting, Richie. Can you not talk about your dick in public?”

“I bet you’d like to talk about my dick, though,” Richie said with a wink.

Eddie didn’t answer, instead pushed the cart away from where they had previously been standing. Richie followed him. “Aw, come on, Eds. Just a simple joke.”

“Jokes are supposed to be funny, Rich. You talking about your dick isn't as funny as you think it is.”

“Yet you’re the one still talking about it now, aren’t you?”

Eddie went silent again and walked away from Richie after grabbing what he needed to. Richie caught back up and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Okay, okay, I’m done with fucking with you. What else do we need to get?”

“I’ll show you, be patient for once in your life, okay?”

“Fine,” he replied with a sigh. He followed Eddie around the rest of the store, watching as he picked up more and more of the items he needed. 

“I have a question,” Richie said as they were nearing the end of their shopping. 

“Shoot, I guess.”

“Does this place have good booze?”

Eddie hummed, drumming his fingers on the cart handle. “I think? It’s been a while since I’ve got alcohol from here. Myra and I pretty much stocked up on wine from that wine festival we went to a while back. Why, are you craving something?”

“I’d kill for a good bourbon right now.”

“Do you wanna go back to the alcohol and get some?”

Richie thought for a moment. “I don’t know. It’s probably pretty expensive here, isn’t it? I’d rather not blow all of your money on liquor considering I’m broke.”

“No, it’s alright. Let’s go back.”

So they turned around and headed to the alcohol section, Richie taking a moment to decide what exactly he wanted before they got in line to check out. “You’re lucky I chose the least expensive bottle,” he said, elbowing Eddie gently. “Next time, I’ll max out your credit card with good bourbon.”

“Can’t be worse than the $180 bottle of wine sitting in my cabinet, can it?"

“Guess not.” 

Eddie went back to scanning his items, watching the total increase slowly. “That’s not as much as I was expecting it to be,” he said to himself.

“Good for you, Eddie. Nice bargain shopping there.”

“Shut up,” he hissed as he swiped his card. The payment was accepted and Richie helped him get everything loaded back into the cart so they could leave. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

"Yes, it was. Now you have to take me to the doctor so I can get a double check on all of my vaccines.”

"You're not funny, " Eddie said simply as he loaded the groceries into the back of his car. "Remind me to call my boss when we get home. I'll just tell him there's a family emergency. They can figure something out."

Richie finished helping im Eddie with the groceries and they got back into the Escalade. “Uh, thanks for wanting to take the day off again to help me move. I really appreciate it.”

Eddie shrugged. “It’s nothing. They can survive without me.”

So he wasn’t getting the point. Richie chose not to press further. "Anything else we have to do today, dear husband?" He cooed, putting his hand on Eddie's shoulder again.

"Stop touching me while I'm trying to drive. Do you want us to get into an accident and die?" He shrugged off Richie's hand once more and shook his head. "Not really, I don't think. Why, is there something you want to do?"

"Not really, I guess. Just wondering." They went back into near silence, the radio's muted music playing in the background. "We should go for a walk before it gets dark. Derry was always so pretty in the fall."

"Yeah? You wanna do that?"

"Why not? It's a good idea to enjoy the season before Mother Nature says 'fuck you' and dumps forty feet of snow on us."

"Winter is the worst," Eddie added. "I can't stand driving on icy roads."

They pulled into Eddie's garage once more, unloading the groceries and heading back into the house. Richie helped him put everything away, and by the time they sat down, it was nearing ten o'clock. They sat side-by-side on the sofa again, mindlessly sifting through the channels, desperately trying to find something to watch on a Thursday morning.

"We should get a dog," Richie said as Eddie decided on a talk show. 

"What?"

"We should get a dog," he repeated. "I've never really had the time or room for a dog but I've always wanted one. A really big one, too. Like a great dane or something."

"Richie," Eddie started with the authority of a parent who's forced to tell his kid their pet just died. "I don't have room for a big dog. Maybe if we got something smaller, we could do that. But you realize a dog is a lot of work, right? You'd have to care about something other than yourself."

"Okay, dad." He rested his head against Eddie's shoulder, and thankfully he didn't force him off. "But you didn't automatically say no. That's a good sign."

"It's only because you're cute when you're excited." Richie stopped dead in his tracks. Cute?

"I'm literally 43, how am I cute?"

"Not physically."  _ Ouch.  _ "I like seeing people get excited. It's pretty interesting seeing what makes people emotional."

"I mean, when I think about your mom, I get pretty excited."

"Shut up, Richie, I'm trying to be nice to you." 

"She makes my dick spring to life, Eds. Every time I think about her rockin' body, I nearly cream my j-"

"Enough, Richie," Eddie said firmly, not in a joking way that he normally did, but in a way that told him he had gone too far. "Just shut up and let me watch this."

Whatever talk show he decided on was nearly over, but Eddie brought his attention into whatever the hosts were going off about. Richie never saw the appeal in talk shows. He had the opportunity to appear on Jimmy Fallon, but he declined that offer. His manager was completely infuriated at him for refusing. He remembered being scolded that it was an amazing opportunity and that he was missing out on an incredible chance to get more publicity. Richie didn’t regret it as much as his manager did.

Richie could not stand the silence. He knew a lot of people found silence comforting, but no way was he one of those people. The noise from the TV was not enough. “Eds?”

Eddie blinked. “If you’re gonna make one more joke about my mom, I swear I’ll -”

“It’s not that. I just really fucking hate what you’re watching.”

“Oh?” He tested with a scoff. “What’s your idea then?”

“We watch something actually good.”

“If you want me to watch the Butterfly Effect again, I’m not gonna do it. I really don’t want to get pissed about not understanding a movie again.”

Richie laughed. “No, God, no. I’ll make you watch the first two eventually, but not now. Wanna watch Ferris Bueller’s Day Off or something?”

Eddie hummed and glanced back to Richie, who still had his head on his shoulder. He bit back a smile. “Yeah, sure, let’s do it.” He went to his streaming service and scrolled through the movies to find the one they had chosen. “Did you see it in theaters?”

“Yeah, actually, my old man took me to see it. I was, like, ten. He took me to see The Breakfast Club the year before that. It just kinda became a tradition that we’d see whatever movie everyone was raving about.”

“You saw The Breakfast Club in theaters? I tried sneaking in but got caught and nicely escorted out. Then again, I was literally nine years old and about four feet tall."

“Well, isn’t that something?” Richie drawled in a poor Southern accent. “Little Edward tried sneaking into an R-rated movie?”

“Shut up and watch your movie.”

When Richie was a teenager, he had dreams of pulling off the stunts Ferris Bueller did in the movie. There was something that gave him so much adrenaline at the thought of interrupting a parade to sing Twist and Shout by The Beatles and orchestrating the biggest plot to skip school and set off the crazy principal. In such a small town like Derry, nothing like that was even possible. He also dreamt hardcore about getting detention with four other people and getting high with them. Unfortunately, that was even more unrealistic.

The two watched the movie quietly, idle conversation occasionally springing up. They discussed being teenagers in the late eighties and college in the early nineties. “Did you ever go to prom?” Richie asked as Ferris was kissing Sloane.

“God, I really wish I did. My mom didn’t let me go when I was a senior because she was scared I was going to have sex, catch crabs or something, and die. I mean, she was more scared of me getting AIDS from the boys, but she was just as much horrified I was having sex with girls."

“Were you?”

“Having sex with girls? I think you already have that answer.” Eddie glanced at the screen for a second before looking back to Richie again. “How did your senior prom go?”

“Not as good as the movies make it out to be,” Richie said with a sigh followed by a short smile. “I made out with some girl who wasn’t even my date in the bathroom. She tasted so bad and I immediately threw up when she left the bathroom. Not to mention the DJ was the worst. He was, like, eighty years old and such a buzzkill. I ended up leaving halfway through.”

Eddie laughed louder than he expected to and shook his head. “That sounds so pathetic, I’m so sorry for laughing. High school sucked, huh?”

“Yeah, definitely. You didn’t go to Derry for school, did you? I feel like I would have noticed someone like you.”

“I can’t tell if that’s an insult or flirting,” the other man said. “But no. I had a bad year in Derry when I was eleven, so my mom decided she’d go the extra mile and take me to Brewer High. I hated it more than anything.”

“That makes sense. I wish we would have gotten to be friends when we were younger,” Richie murmured, repressing a yawn. He looked at Eddie’s smaller hand resting delicately on his lap, wanting nothing more than to slide his palm into Eddie's. He resisted that urge and kept to himself.

“Baby Eddie wasn’t fun to be around, that’s the sad part. You would not believe how many fanny packs I carried around. It was disgusting.”

“Eddie Kaspbrak in fanny packs?” Richie suppressed a loud laugh. “God, that’s got to be either the funniest or the cutest image ever. But baby Richie wasn’t exactly the best either.”

“What could be so bad about a smaller version of you?” Eddie asked with all the sarcasm of the world dripping from his tongue.

“Everything, Eddie, my man. Baby me was so scrawny, anyone could pick me up without issue. Not to mention I had the thickest pair of glasses ever and the fashion sense of either a sixty year old butch lesbian or a white dad on vacation to Jamaica with all seven of his kids. You would not believe the amount of sexual and emotional repression teenage Richie held inside of him either.” 

Eddie’s face began to twist into something of concern, but Richie paid no attention. “Like, I got bullied every single goddamn day for being a fag and eventually that led to me forcing myself deep in the closet and I made so many bad jokes to the girls and about being attracted to them. Not to mention I was the funny man of the group, so I really didn’t talk about my emotions, like, ever. I mean, this was the eighties, y’know? So any sign of emotions from boys was asking for a punch in the face and being told to be more manly. My old man never hit me, but there were lots and lots of ‘just be a man, Richard. I didn’t raise a pussy’, and that eventually got to me too, so here I am, age forty-three, barely out of the closet and making a mockery of my emotional trauma.”

Eddie didn’t say anything once Richie stopped talking. He had paused the movie minutes ago so they could talk without interruption. He wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Absolutely nothing.

Instead, his hand snaked to settle in Richie’s, giving it a comforting squeeze. Normally, touching hands was something he was fairly uncomfortable with, but something about Richie made him overcome any urge against that he had. Richie’s hand was sweaty, shaky too. He could tell this was something he never talked about unless he played it as a complete joke. That upset Eddie to the core.

“Richie,” he said quietly, turning his full attention to the other man. “You’re shaking really bad.”

“I know,” he responded, equally as quiet. “Could we crack into that bourbon?” Richie started to get up, but Eddie held him back gently.

“No, just stay here.” Richie hesitantly sits back and glances quickly to Eddie. He hated that worried look people got on their faces when he said something concerning. It gave him chills every time. 

“Really, I’m good and all,” he stammered. “Please, I hate when people look at me like that.”

“If it makes you feel better, you’re not alone in your trauma,” Eddie muttered. “I still have to relive being with Myra and years and years of abuse from my mom every day. I know where you are. Believe me, I had to spend so many years closeted too. It was so risky, I had to take every precaution necessary to hide that. I couldn’t make any ounce of my identity visible.” Eddie told him cautiously. 

"We're like those handshake memes I see on Twitter," Richie said, attempting to relieve the tension. "Y'know, 'cause we both have emotional trauma and we're so deeply closeted that it took forever for us to admit to ourselves."

"I'm sorry, we're like what?"

"Handshake memes? Come on, don't tell me you've never seen them!" Richie cried, reaching for his phone on the coffee table. He opened his Twitter and typed something. "Here, I told my younger followers to send me handshake memes. They should start coming in in a few minutes."

Richie was right, the responses came in within a couple minutes. He held his phone where they both could see as he scrolled through each meme his followers sent. Eddie remained unimpressed.

“You know this is just a fucking venn diagram, right?”

Richie paused, slowly turning his phone off and putting it about 20 feet away from them. “Well.”

“That’s all that is, is a venn diagram. Not very impressive.”

“That’s so rude, my followers spent their previous time making these for me.”

“What precious time? Three seconds? It doesn’t look like it would take very long.” Richie frowned. He was right, and he didn’t want to admit it. “I am shocked at how fast people responded, though.”

“I have dedicated fans,” Richie gloated. “Unfortunately some more than others. You would not believe the things they would want to do to me.”

“I really don’t want to know,” Eddie replied with a grimace. “But, hey, uh, I know we stopped talking about it, but I’m glad you talked to me about what happened when you were younger.”

Eddie still held Richie’s hand delicately, something both of them let slip from their minds. It wasn’t until Richie started shaking again that they remembered they were hand-in-hand. “Thanks for listening, I guess?”

“You’re good now, right?”

Richie stared at their hands for a second, still slowly trembling. “Yeah. This whole thing is something that I don’t like talking about unless I can joke about it. It’s not easy joking about trauma.”

Eddie nodded carefully. “Do you wanna still watch the movie?” He asked after a few seconds of hesitation. 

“You know, I don’t think so. You can go back to watching whatever you want to. I might take a nap or something.”

He decided to switch it back to the channel he had previously been on, this time a different show played. Richie kept his head on his shoulder and took his glasses off. There was something deep in his subconscious telling him that instead of finding freedom in telling Eddie about his childhood, all he felt was regret. Regret that he even said a word to him. Regret that he even met Eddie in the first place.

Ignoring those thoughts was an interesting procedure. Throwing his glasses to the side, he shut his eyes tightly and attempted to let their now synchronized breaths lull him to sleep. It was not easy, however. He was kept awake.

The rest of the day had been completely wasted. Eddie and Richie didn’t leave the house afterwards, simply stayed at home and sat together, watching whatever came on TV that was somewhat interesting. Richie was able to get a nap in around 4 pm, thankfully, the other man slowly dozing off with him. Eddie made dinner for the two of them as Richie slept well into six o’clock. He was a heavy sleeper and Eddie was thankful for that. It was easy to get off the couch without waking him up.

After dinner, they watched another movie, Eddie’s choice this time. While Richie tried to engage himself (it was a bit difficult to do), Eddie snaked his hand into Richie’s again. Not that he was complaining. Holding hands was something he didn’t know could be so personal and comforting. Having that feeling was absolutely intoxicating.

“Hey, Rich?”

“Wuh?” Richie mumbled.

“After the movie, do you want to go to bed?”

He laughed, which turned into a yawn. “No, I’ve got so much energy, dude. I could go clubbing with all this energy.”

“Sounds like it,” Eddie replied. “When was the last time you, like, actually fucking slept?”

“Shush, I’m trying to watch the dumb movie. You’re so loud.”

“Answer my question, Rich.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck  _ you! _ ”

Eddie wanted to kiss him again. He had no clue where they were in their relationship, if they were still just friends. How could they just be friends if they were now in a legal relationship together? He also didn’t know if any of the previous kisses meant anything to Richie. He didn’t even know if he should ask. A bad feeling came into his stomach at the thought of asking.

The movie ended about fifteen minutes later and the two headed upstairs to go to bed. They each respectively changed into more comfortable clothes. For Richie, it was the same t-shirt and sweatpants that he had stuffed into his duffel bag. He couldn’t wait until he was formally moved in with Eddie. Even he couldn’t stand being in the same dirty clothes from the first night he stayed in Derry.

“What time are we getting up tomorrow?” Richie asked, stifling another yawn as he crawled onto his side of the bed. 

“Hm, about five thirty, depending on if you need to shower or not. I’m assuming you don’t need to. But I might. We’re gonna leave at six thirty tomorrow morning.”

Eddie turned off the light and stumbled back into bed with Richie. “We should probably get my car from Stan first. It’s still in his driveway.”

“That’s right,” Eddie murmured. “I forgot you know how to drive.”

“Rude and incredibly homophobic. Why would you say something like that?”

“Shush,” he whispered, turning around to face Richie. Thankfully, the room was dark and Eddie had his eyes closed. He already looked so peaceful lying there. Richie craned his head to press a chaste and hesitant kiss to Eddie’s temple. He could see him smile in the slightest.

“Night, Rich.”

“Night, Eddie, my love.”

For the first time in a while, Richie didn’t end up waking up in the middle of the night.

(***)

Eddie awoke first, which was usual at this point. His clock read five thirty-four when Richie finally shoved his glasses back on his face. The door was ajar and Richie was feeling deja-vu. The exact same set up as yesterday morning. 

This time, however, Eddie wasn’t in the shower. Instead, he was downstairs, already dressed and ready, preparing a quick breakfast for the two. Richie stumbled downstairs to meet him. “Why’re you up so early?” He muttered, rubbing his eyes from under his glasses.

“To get ready for a 12 hour trip. I’m making breakfast. You should eat so you don’t fall asleep at the wheel.”

“I’ve never done that before,” Richie whined, folding his arms.

“I’m just saying.” He turned to retrieve something from the refrigerator. “Hey, I was thinking, my Escalade’s pretty big, right?”

“Bigger than my -”

“Anyways, I was thinking. You said you didn’t have much you wanted to bring up here. So do you think we could just grab a bunch of boxes from here and take my car up?”

Richie paused to consider the option. It was true, all he needed to take was his clothes, toiletries, some valuable possessions, and the booze in his fridge. “Yeah, I think that’ll work.”

“Good,” he responded with a smile forming. “Driving’s no fun unless you’re bothering the shit out of me.”

“You’re so sweet,” Richie cooed, reaching across the counter to stroke Eddie’s face. Eddie’s hand swatted him away. “So do we need to get my car from Stan’s?”

“Yeah, we do, dumbass. I won’t be surprised if they towed it already. We can do it when we get back.” Eddie gently set the used dishes into the sink. He sat down next to Richie as they ate breakfast. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to New York before. What’s it like?”

“Noisy as all hell,” Richie answered after swallowing. “The traffic sucks too. It’s like everyone who didn’t take drivers ed ended up moving there. It’s god awful.”

“Is that why you ended up moving there?”

Richie rolled his eyes and groaned. “No, for fucks sake, I’m a good driver.” He swallowed another bite before talking again. “I actually moved to New York because I’ve always wanted to live in a big city. I was thinking about LA, ‘cause, you know, that’s where a lot of celebrities are and I wanted so bad to be in that spot, but someone I knew was able to hook me up with a decent apartment in NYC, and here I am now.”

Eddie nodded and picked up his empty plate and set it in the sink. “Are you gonna miss the city?” He asked, taking a sip from the large mug in front of him.

“Oh, yeah. I called that place home for a really long time.” He copied Eddie’s actions after his own plate was empty and he sat back down at the counter. “But I think if I would have stayed, all I would have seen was reminders about how much I fucked up. I’m gonna miss being in front of audiences and stuff, but I do miss living lowkey even more.”

Eddie was a good listener, Richie decided. The entire time he was talking, the other man sat quietly, occasionally taking a drink from his mug, staring intently at him. Eye contact used to bother him a lot and he wasn’t quite sure why, but after years in the entertainment business allowed him to get over that. Eddie’s eye contact was greatly appreciated, even if Richie never said anything about it. 

“It’s about six fifteen, we better get going soon,” Eddie said, checking his Apple Watch quickly. “I have some boxes in the guest closet, so we can use those.”

They both headed up stairs and into the guest room, Richie opening the closet. When he searched through the room after arriving, he did see the boxes, so he knew exactly where to dig them out from. They were folded up and pressed tightly against the wall and in between other things shoved into the closet. They got Eddie’s car loaded up and were almost ready to leave.

“I should probably let Stan know what’s up,” Richie said as they got inside of the Escalade. “I’m calling him.”

Stan’s number was on speed dial, so he was able to call him quickly. He answered after about three rings. “Hello?”

“Hey, Stan the Man, what’s up?”

“Just getting up,” he answered with a yawn. “How come you’re up so early?”

“Eddie and I are going up to New York to get me moved out of my apartment.”

“Oh shit, really?” There was some rustling on the other line. Richie figured he was getting up and bumped the phone in the process. “Are you moving in with Eddie?”

“Yeah, I am. Things have gone pretty great in the past few days, so I’m calling Derry home again.”

“That’s awesome, Rich! Is Eddie driving?”

“Yep.” Richie glanced over to Eddie, who was eyeing him and the road interchangeably. “Hey, Eds, how do I hook up the call to the car so you can hear him?”

“God, I don’t know. Let me just call Stan.”

He nodded. “Okay, give me a sec. Eddie’s gonna call you. Richie hung up and Eddie pressed a couple buttons, Stan’s number popping up on the screen. He picked up the call.

“Hey, Stan,” Eddie said. “Nice to hear from you, man. It’s been for-fucking-ever since we talked. How’s things with Bill?”

“Oh, it’s pretty great! I got him to take pastry classes with me as a way to bond more. He and I are pretty damn happy.”

“When’s the wedding?”

“Oh, I-I haven’t really talked to him about marriage quite yet,” Stan stammered. “I want to propose to him in the next few months or something. He’s made me so happy.”

“Cute,” Richie cheered. “Dibs on best man.”

“That’s not fair, Rich, you can’t call dibs.”

“I just did.”

“The wedding isn’t even happening yet, what the fuck?”

“You’re just jealous that Stan’s my best friend and not yours!”

“Richie, I’m going to dump you and your shit into the lake if you don’t stop.”

Stan coughed awkwardly from the other line. “Are you two done fighting? ‘Cause I have a question for you guys.”

“Oh, yeah, shoot,” Richie replied lamely.

“How’s the whole civil union thing going? Any updates there?”

“Oh!” Eddie exclaimed. “Richie and I got that finalized yesterday morning. It was super easy.”

“When’s the wedding?” Stan taunted, mocking Eddie’s voice poorly. 

“Shut up, fucker.”

“Yeah, shut up,” Richie piped in like the sidekick to the world’s dumbest bully.

“I’m glad you guys finally got that done with,” Stan said and Richie could see the smile form over the other line. “Oh, hey, Bill, I’m talking to Rich and Eddie. Say hi to them.”

More rustling. Bill must have taken the phone from Stan. “Hey, guys. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“I saw you a couple days ago,” Richie said with a shrug. 

“It’s always a delight talking to you, Rich. Same to you, Eddie.”

“Good to hear from you, Bill! Hey, we should probably go.”

“Yeah, or else Eddie’ll drive straight into a body of water and kill us both.”

Eddie bit back telling him to shut up again. “We’ve got a long six hour trip to go.”

Bill laughed. “Good luck with Richie. You might want to consider kicking him out if he gets too rowdy.”

_ Rowdy _ , Richie repeated.  _ What am I, a six year old kid in the backseat of his parents Subaru? _ “Oh, Billy, you know you love my trashmouth.”

“Bye, guys. I’ll let Stan say bye.”

Even more rustling as Bill hands the phone back to Stan. “Perfect timing,” he chirped. “Both of us have the day off, so we’re going bird watching in the quarry this morning.”

“That’s a very Stanley Uris thing of you to do,” Richie chorted. 

“Keep us updated on how moving goes. Talk to you guys later!”

“Bye,” Eddie said before disconnecting the call. “It’s always nice talking to them.”

“Definitely. Can you believe Stan’s planning on proposing? Stan, out of all people?”

Eddie laughed a bit. “Stan’s the most dominant person in that relationship, not just sexually. I’m shocked his so-called best friend doesn’t know that.”

“Oh, fuck you. I know pretty much everything about Stan. He’s got freckles near his dick.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Eddie nearly wrecked the car into another. “How do you know what’s on his dick?”

“Duh,” Richie said with an eye roll. “I’m his best friend. Of course we’ve seen each others’ dicks.”

“That’s kinda fucking gay, Rich.”

“Says the one in a legal relationship with a man.”

“Could say the same for you.”

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

“Fuck  _ you _ .”

There was something about arguing with Richie that always made Eddie want to smash his lips against the others’. He would give anything to slam the car into a parking spot and attack Richie with all the horniness of a thirteen year old boy. But in his spot he stayed, driving down the interstate. 

The next five and a half hours passed by slowly. The two talked the entire time, keeping the car lively with a mix of Richie’s eighties rock music and idle conversation. By the time they reached the city, it was about noon.

“Look at us,” Richie cooed. “Only five more miles until we get into the city. Get ready for the worst traffic of your entire life.”

He was not lying. The next twenty minutes were filled with Eddie wishing he had taken a different exit to get into the city. He truly wasn’t prepared for just how bad the traffic was on a Friday morning. “I hate my fucking life,” he moaned, resisting the urge to beat his head against the wheel.

Thankfully, they managed to get into the area where Richie’s apartment complex was. It was exactly how Eddie imagined it - beat up and almost abandoned looking. “I already feel sick,” he moaned again. “I’m going to vomit.”

“You’ll be fine. I gotta greet my friends, though.”

“Friends?”

“The vomit eating rats in the dumpster.”

_ Oh God _ . “Please stop talking about them.” Eddie found a parking spot and they took all the boxes out of the back of the car and Richie lead the way to his apartment. 

“Hopefully the ol’ landlord didn’t shut my power off,” he said to himself. “My booze better be okay.”

He unlocked the door with the key hidden under the mat and allowed Eddie to step into the room. “This isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Stay outta the bathroom, then.” Richie set down the boxes near the beat up sofa and propped them open. “Okay, so we should probably start with my clothes and personal belongings first, then the booze I want to safe, then my toiletries and stuff.”

“That works for me. I’ve always wanted to see your room.” Eddie followed him to the small bedroom, where he saw the too-small twin size bed for himself. The room felt uninviting and there was a slight draft that blew into Eddie’s face and caused him to shiver. 

Richie opened up the closet and began shoving clothes into the box. “No, no, no, knock it the fuck off,” Eddie scolded, taking the clothes away from him. “You gotta fold them, dipshit.” He took the shirts off of their hangers and folded them gently, starting a pile in the box. “I guess you never learned to do that.”

“Nope.”

They spent the next hour hurriedly packing so that they would be back on the road no later than two o’clock. Eddie let Richie handle the bathroom. He was too grossed out to step foot in it.

The boxes they had brought in were properly filled and taped up, so then came packing them into the Escalade. Carrying one heavy box each, they managed to get the first two into the car no problem and headed back for the last two. Richie was getting antsy to finally leave the shithole he lived in for so long.

He slammed the trunk shut and smiled at Eddie. “Sayonara, motherfucker,” he said, thrusting his middle finger to the building. “Dare me to throw my key away?”

“You better not. That would cost your landlord money to get a new one made.”

Richie laughed, louder than anticipated, and tossed his key towards the dumpster alley. “That’s what he gets.”

“You’re so bad.”

“Only for you, Eddie, my love.” 

That was it. He had to kiss him immediately. Without any hesitation, Eddie leaned in and pressed his lips to Richie’s, grabbing one of his hands tightly and using his other to pull him in. Richie was definitely surprised. He could tell by the muffled noise that came out of his mouth when he had kissed him.

A car honk made them jump, causing them to break away. “You get better and better at doing that, Eds.” 

"I've wanted to do that all day," he admitted. "Every time you open that stupid mouth of yours, I want nothing more than to kiss you until you finally shut up."

"That's - whoa-," Richie stammered. No one ever made him nervous. He wondered what the hell Eddie was doing to him to make him this way. He didn't necessarily hate it. 

"Suppose we better start going?" Eddie said, as if he didn't just tell Richie he was attracted to the stupid shit he says.

"I mean, yeah. It's nearly two thirty, and we said we wanted to be on the road by then."

They loaded into the Escalade and Richie flipped his apartment building off one last time. "I should call the old boomer and tell him I'm outta here. Think he'll take it well?"

"No, but you should do it." Eddie pulled out of his parking spot and into the road, glancing out of the rear windshield. "What's a boomer, though?"

"You don't know what a boomer is?"

"I'm 43, Richie. How the fuck am I supposed to be kept up with slang?"

Richie simply laughed loudly again and shook his head. "Boomers are, like, our parents. Born in 1946 to '64 or something. Kids hate 'em for fucking up the economy and the environment or some shit. Although, I've been told 'boomer' refers to someone with an intolerant mindset."

Eddie's lips pressed together tightly. "Your fans give you too much power. Besides, that's rude and disrespectful of them to hate a singular generation. Sure, our parents sucked, but that doesn't mean all baby boomers are bad."

It's too easy. "Ok, boomer," Richie replied without even a second thought.

"What?"

"It's something else they taught me. God, do you even check Twitter?"

"No, I don't have the fucking time. What the fuck does 'ok, boomer' even mean?"

"I don't know! Ask the teenagers!"

Eddie nearly slammed his head against the steering wheel. "You're not gonna call me a boomer, that's for fucking sure."

"If you act like a boomer, I'm gonna call you one," Richie said, like his argument was perfect.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Eddie hissed and rolled his eyes. “You’re so goddamn stupid.”

“Hey, it’s this stupidity that makes you go crazy, apparently.”

Eddie didn’t say anything, so Richie figured he was correct. They were back on the interstate at this point, and would probably be back in Brewer by eight or nine o’clock. Richie was already beginning to get tired, but he had to keep Eddie company, so awake he stayed.

Besides a few road rage incidents, the drive back to Brewer was a lot nicer. The two talked back and forth, mostly to keep each other motivated and awake. By the time they had reached a desolate town in Massachusetts, Eddie had about an eighth of a tank left, so they managed to find a gas station. While Eddie pumped the gas, Richie headed inside to piss and get the two coffee. Eddie had finished by the time Richie came back out, two cups in hand. “Thanks, Rich,” he chirped as they got back into the car. “Only about three hours left.”

He was right, the clock read about six. They would be home by nine. “Hey, I’ve been thinking about something,” Richie said as Eddie pulled out of the gas station.

“That’s dangerous.”

“Fuck off. Anyways, I think we should actually go through with the dog thing.”

“Dog thing?” Eddie repeated.

“Yeah. I really want a dog, Eds. I want a dog so fucking bad.”

Eddie pulled his classic in-thought move, giving a soft hum. Usually, this was a good sign. But now, Richie could only hope for the best. He took a moment to reply, glancing at the passenger before smiling softly. “Our best bet is to wait a week or two, check things out, and maybe start with fostering one first. But I’m not completely opposed to a dog. I’ve wanted one too.”

Richie smiled back like he just won an Oscar. “Fuck yeah, I’m so excited.”

  
“We could probably go to the shelter next Thursday and see what we can find.”

“Thanks, Eds. You’re so good.” 

They finally reached home after three hours, like Eddie had said previously. They unloaded the car as quickly as they could and got back inside to head to Stan’s, Richie’s keys clutched in his palms.

The two said hi to both Stan and Bill once they arrived, talked over how the quick trip went, and left within fifteen minutes. It had been forever since Richie drove his own car. He swore he almost forgot how to drive it. He trailed behind Eddie as they drove back to Brewer, finding his new spot in the garage next to the Escalade. That was the first sign he felt truly at home.

The only thing he managed to unpack was his clothes, setting them in the guest room closet with the help of Eddie. By the time they had finally settled at home, it was nearing eleven o’clock. “We should probably go to bed soon,” Eddie told him, pulling the taller man into a hug.

“Why go to bed when we could do something else?” Richie replied with a wink. Eddie simply shook his head and pressed a kiss to his chapped lips. He pulled away, though, much to the disappointment of Richie.

“I have to ask where we are in this relationship,” he murmured, looking gently into Richie’s eyes. He never truly noticed just how deep brown they were. Almost the same color as his own. “Because I know right now, it’s a legal relationship, but I have to know where we are.”

Richie didn’t talk for a moment, maintaining soft eye contact with the man. “Ever since you yelled at me for nearly wrecking your car, I’ve been thinking about how I felt about you. Something about how we first met has stuck with me for all of the four days we’ve known each other.”

The two of them laughed into each other’s mouths as Eddie pulled him into another kiss. They stumbled their way to sit on the bed, Eddie inching himself closer and closer to Richie. He could hear Richie’s heart pounding, and his own was too. He pulled away and pressed his lips against his neck, running one hand down the man’s chest. Stopping at his heart and feeling it beat against his palm, he grinned. “Nervous?”

“Never,” Richie squeaked, now embarrassed about losing his cool in front of him like that.

“I believe you. Stop me if you need to,” he said, pressing one last kiss to his lips before beginning to pawing to take Richie’s jacket and shirt off.

(***)

The next week cruised by quickly. With all the stress of moving out gone, Richie was able to find his a few gigs as a DJ to get himself back on track. He didn’t mind. Before going into the entertainment business, he had played a few weddings and private parties. It wasn’t anything permanent, but Eddie was glad to see him getting better.

The next Thursday finally rolled around and because Eddie had kept his promise, they took the day to head to the local animal shelter and check the dogs out. Richie could barely contain his excitement.

Eddie was a bit disappointed by their selection of dogs. He had always wanted a smaller dog, but most of them were bigger dogs. Richie, however, was enthralled. He looked over to see Richie sticking his hand through the kennel to pet a golden retriever on the other side. “Eds, oh my fucking god, I love her.”

He crouched down to where the dog, labeled with the name ‘Chloe’. “Let me pet her,” he said, sticking his own hand through the metal to place a hand on the dog. She was soft, that was for sure. She seemed to embrace every bit of attention she was getting.

“I want her,” Richie decided.

“Not even gonna ask my opinion on the dog?”

“Nope, I don’t care. We’re adopting her.”

Eddie laughed. “Okay, well, we gotta talk to the workers.”

They did as such, filling out paperwork and talking to the lady at the desk who had decided to help them. They signed up to foster Chloe first, seeing how she adapted to the house before they made a big decision. They were told she would be available to pick up the next day, which Richie would do. 

The two went back to the kennels, respectively crouching in front of the kennel again. “Your daddies will be back for you tomorrow, okay?” Richie said in a baby voice, stroking Chloe’s head gently. “We’re so excited for you to come home.” Eddie did the same, petting her back as she panted happily.

“Bye, baby,” Richie called as they got up.

“We’re gonna be puppy parents,” Eddie said excitedly. “I’ve never been this excited in my entire life.”

“That says a lot about you,” he chuckled. “Thank you so much!”

“See you tomorrow, sir.”

As they shut the door behind them, Eddie snickered. “Bold of her to assume you have any authority.”

“Shut up, I’m the one picking Chloe up tomorrow.”

As they got into the car, Eddie hummed. “About that. I don’t think we should keep her name as Chloe. It seems too human. We should think about a different name.”

“Oh,” Richie said in a tone implying he had been thinking about names the entire time. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Oh, fuck. Let’s hear it.”

“Walmart Brand Birthday Sheet Cake.”

Eddie blinked. “What.”

“You heard me,” Richie replied. “Do I need to repeat it?”

“We are not naming such a sweet dog Walmart Birthday Cake.”

“It’s Walmart Brand Birthday Sheet Cake.”

“Whatever.” 

Richie folded his arms to his chest and smirked. “I knew you’d be adverse to that, so what do you think about Cake for short?”

“Cake?” Eddie repeated. “That is a lot cuter. She  _ does  _ remind me of cake batter.”

“See, I told you.”

“We’ll talk about it,” Eddie said smugly, reaching a hand over to pat Richie’s shoulder. 

They decided to buy all of the supplies needed for Cake that day, just so Richie wouldn’t have to worry about leaving her in the car to pick up what they needed her. The lady had recommended them getting her a specific brand of food and gave them a list of her favorite toys, so they headed to PetSmart to pick all of that up, finding her a collar and leash as well.

The next day, Richie finally brought Cake home. She was nervous at the new environment, but her new owner made her feel at home quickly. Eddie was more than enthusiastic to arrive home to a perfectly happy dog and a happy boyfriend waiting for him.

Cake’s adjustment took time, and she wasn’t always the perfect dog, but Richie and Eddie were more than willing to help her adjust.

(***)

Six months since Cake’s adoption had gone by, the three now happier than ever. They were watching a movie, Cake lying on Richie’s lap and Richie laying on Eddie’s shoulder, when Eddie spoke up.

“I have something to tell you.”

“Oh?” Richie tested. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“No, not yet,” he said with a laugh and giving Richie a swift flick to the forehead. “I want to wait for Stan and Bill to do it first, but I think I want to marry you.”

“That’s a little fast.” Eddie could hear the hesitation in his voice. “Stan and Bill have been dating for almost two years now and they’re not married yet.”

“I know. I’m not saying anytime soon. After Stan and Bill get married. We can talk more about what we want to do in the meantime.”

Richie glanced between Cake, who was now sleeping, and Eddie, giving him a hopeful look with the prettiest puppy eyes he had ever seen. “Let’s see how it goes. Stan and Bill first, remember.”

“Stan and Bill first," he parroted.

Eddie leaned to kiss him on the lips, gentle and caring. “I love you, Richard.”

“Love you more, Edward.”

“Make better use of that mouth,” he ordered. “Kiss me.”

“Whatever you say, darling, light of my life.” He laughed, following demands and twisting his body to kiss Eddie, accidentally kicking Cake to the floor. “I’m sorry, baby,” He said, in between kisses.

The dog looked at the two and left the living room in favor of lying in her bed upstairs. They didn’t mind. That gave them more privacy.

**Author's Note:**

> oh wow thank you for getting through to the end! i hope you guys liked it <3
> 
> follow my Tumblr for more shenanigans and it content @lipstick-lesbienne
> 
> kudos, comments, and bookmarks greatly appreciated!!!!


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